


Waking the Fallen

by ScootyPuffJrSucks, SpectralProngs



Series: The Fallen [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Angels, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, CapRBB2017, Captain America Reverse Big Bang 2017, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, M/M, Magic, Pining, Pining Steve, Post-Avengers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-03
Updated: 2017-07-03
Packaged: 2018-11-22 20:56:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 29,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11388249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScootyPuffJrSucks/pseuds/ScootyPuffJrSucks, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpectralProngs/pseuds/SpectralProngs
Summary: When Steve and Tony make an unusual discovery among some of Howard’s old things, Steve gets a second chance at life, friendship, and love.





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to everyone who helped with this. The awesome art by spectralprongs. To everyone who beta and helped me get through this, basically everyone on the SBB Slack...

**Part 1**

Steve stepped out of the elevator as soon as it opened and looked around. “If this is it, Tony, you didn’t have to bring me down here. I’ve seen your collection before,” he said as he glanced back over his shoulder.

They were in the lowest level of the parking garage beneath the newly renamed Avengers Tower, the level only Tony had access to that contained his workshop and all the vehicles both he and Howard had collected over the years. Just glancing around Steve couldn’t see anything new from the first, and only, time he’d been here, definitely nothing to warrant a trip down to bowels of the tower so soon after he returned from a particularly trying mission for SHIELD. His ribs were still healing and he’d much rather have been in bed with a movie.

So many things to enjoy about the twenty-first century, and a movie in bed was definitely one Steve liked the most.

“Probably could’ve just told me without dragging me down here.”

“No, this is not what I wanted to show you,” Tony said stepping out of the elevator and past Steve. He paused and looked up at him. “And I probably could’ve just told you, but where’s the fun in that?” He smirked and continued into the dark of the garage.

The smirk made Steve hesitate. It was _not_ Tony’s normal smirk. It was trying to be, but something about it wasn’t right. _His eyes,_ Steve decided. They didn’t hold Tony’s usual glint of mocking humor, they seemed softer, and filled with an emotion Steve did not want to identify.

Which couldn’t be right. Yes, he and Tony were on better terms— _far_ better terms—since the Chitauri and the Battle of New York almost a year ago, but he wasn’t sure if they were really friends. Antagonistic coworkers maybe, but not friends. At least not yet. He shook his head minutely and moved to catch up.

The overhead lights followed them, coming on gradually as they walked through the garage toward the rear wall, directly across from the elevator. A suspiciously blank wall.

“Tony…” Steve started, an exasperated warning in his voice.

“Patience, my fine frozen friend,” Tony muttered as he ran his fingers along the wall at about waist level.

Tony’s hand stopped and there was a slight whirring noise. A small square of wall directly above Tony’s hand slid away to reveal a screen and numerical keypad. Tony typed in a series of numbers and placed his hand in the center of the screen.

“No JARVIS?” Steve asked as he watched a light from the screen scan Tony’s hand.

“Just a bit of added security.” The scan complete, Tony removed his hand and stepped back as another, larger section of the wall slipped away to reveal an open room that contained, well, a lot of things.

Steve entered a bit behind Tony and looked around, trying to take everything in, but he couldn’t be sure of what he was looking at most of the time. There were a lot of boxes, overflowing with a variety of things, papers and books, but also tools and electronics. Half-finished vehicles and inventions were scattered here and there, on the floor, on tables and shelves.

 _Bucky would love this._ Steve veered that train of thought from where he knew it was headed. It had been about fifteen months for him, since he lost his best friend, and yet Bucky was always on his mind. He knew it that would never change, a constant ache inside that would never leave. Like losing an arm or a leg, you moved on and learned to live without the piece that was missing. Though Steve wouldn’t compare Bucky to a limb, more like a piece of his heart, a bit of soul, something that left a gaping and aching wound his chest that would never fully heal.

And with all the new technology the future had to offer, so many new things that Steve saw everyday reminded of him of Bucky, his first thought always, _I wish Bucky could see this_. Though sometimes it was, _I can’t wait to tell Bucky about this_. Those were the bad days, though they happened less and less with time.

Steve didn’t have too much time to look around though, or to dwell on the missing part of his life. Tony had a destination in mind and led Steve to a table by the far wall, the only table that was mostly clear. One large cardboard box had been placed in the center.

Stopping next to the table, Tony placed a hand on top of the box but made no move to open it, just stared at it. “Pretty much everything in this room was Dad’s. Things I found in the house and just... couldn’t look at but couldn’t get rid of. I hadn’t been down here in… years. I don’t actually know why I got the urge to come down here the other day, but I did and I found this.” He finally turned to look at Steve and slowly pushed the box toward him.

Steve hesitated, but his curiosity won and he reached for the box, gently removing the lid. On top, was an old sketchbook, one of _his_ old sketchbooks, and he knew without opening it exactly which one it was, thankful that Howard had saved it from prying eyes. Lifting it out of the box, he felt his throat close suddenly with emotion and tears start to prick the backs of his eyes. He expected more of his old things. Things he wouldn’t have wanted the Smithsonian to have on display that Howard had managed to salvage, hide away. He didn’t expect to see Bucky’s things mixed in with his own, the familiar blue wool coat folded neatly near the top. Things he thought he would never see again, lost to time. He closed his eyes and willed the emotion away, not inclined to fall apart in front of Tony. He had been wrong. _Friends_ , that’s exactly what they were.

Steve started at the sound of Tony’s voice.

“I didn’t snoop around in there,” he said, “but I figured it should be returned to you.”

He closed the box quickly, not ready to relive the memories these items would bring. “Thanks, Tony. I can’t tell you how much it means to have all this. I…” Steve trailed off when he noticed a large white box in the back of the room, partially covered by a tarp. It wasn’t the box itself that caught his eye but the symbol he could see on the side—a very familiar stylized wing. “What’s that?” He walked back to the box and removed the tarp. It was fairly large, maybe eight feet long, and made of metal, with the same wing on the top of the box as the side.

Tony spoke as he approached. “Ah, that. I found that in a hidden room in the house a couple years after Dad died. Never was able to get it open. Not that I tried very hard really. I probably could if we needed to. Why? You know what it is?”

Steve reached out and gently ran his fingers along the wing on the top of the box. “No, it just looked—” Without warning, the wing lit up a brilliant blue. He held back a flinch and kept still, kept his fingers where they were as he shot a concerned look over his shoulder at Tony.

“I have no idea. That’s never happened before.”

“Voice recognition initiated,” a slightly computerized female voice stated, coming from the box. “Please state your name.”

They just looked at each other, hesitating, until Steve tilted his head toward the box, indicating Tony should speak.

“Anthony Edward Stark.”

“Access denied. Voice recognition initiated. Please state your name.”

Tony just shrugged and moved his hands toward Steve in an way that said _“well, I tried.”_

Steve sighed but turned back to the box. “Steven Grant Rogers.”

“Access granted.”

The box whirred to life and Steve jerked his hand back as the top lifted slightly and slid about two feet to one side, leaving behind a poorly lit opening. Neither Steve nor Tony moved, just stared at the opening, until Tony clapped Steve on the back and tried to give him a little push. “Well, that’s all you, Cap. Let me know how it turns out.”

Steve glared at Tony, but stepped closer to the top of the box. He slowly bent down to get a closer look. A strangled sound emerged from his throat as he stared down into a face he thought he’d never see again.

“Bucky.”

*****

Steve stayed silently by the box as Tony did... whatever it was Tony needed to do. Steve could hear him speaking to JARVIS, trying to figure out how to easily transport Bucky up to the Avengers’ section of the tower without attracting too much attention. Steve thought he heard him sending a message to Bruce to meet him in the lab, but it was mostly just white noise. The world around him narrowed down to the face of the one person in the world who had always been by his side.

Bucky lay in a small chamber within the larger metal box. Also white and metal, it had a glass window that only allowed Steve to see Bucky’s face, which was soft and peaceful, eyes closed as if sleeping.

Outwardly, Steve kept calm, but inside his heart and mind were racing. He was trying not to think, but so many questions flowed through his mind. How did Howard find Bucky’s body and why? Was Bucky asleep? Frozen like Steve had been? In some kind of stasis? Dead and preserved, some experiment? It pained him to think that of Howard, but it was still a worry in the back of his mind, that anyone would bring harm to Bucky, to violate him in anyway, even after death. Even the possibility of it started a spark of rage in the back of Steve’s mind.

He tamped it down though, before it could consume him like he knew it would. It wasn’t worth it to be angry know, when he knew so little. He didn’t know what to think about the whole situation though. Was it _better_ to assume that this was nothing more than Bucky’s body preserved? He’d been living for over a year now without Bucky. If that were the case, nothing would change. Maybe this would give him the chance to say a proper goodbye. But the hope was there, growing with each moment he continued to stare down into Bucky’s face.

 _No._ Fuck, that was so much worse, thinking Bucky was dead, all over a gain. To have the chance and see it taken away. Steve knew, if Bucky wasn’t alive in that chamber… he would be devastated all over again.

He continued to stoically guard the metal chamber as it was transported through the garage, inside the elevator, and to the upper floors.

Bruce was already there waiting for them along with Clint and Natasha, who were leaning casually against one wall chatting quietly. Bruce and Steve had moved into the Tower after a bit of persuasion from Tony. Steve wasn’t really sure if Clint and Natasha had needed any persuasion. They just sort of showed up one day and never really left. Not that Tony seemed to mind. Or SHIELD. It was nice to have most of the Avengers together. Easily accessible.

It was nice to have these new friends, who were slowly becoming more like family, all in one place.

“What’s going on, Tony?” Bruce asked.

“Yeah,” Clint spoke up. “Keeping secrets from your fellow Avengers?”

“If I need a spy, I’ll let you know. For right now, I think we could use a doctor.”

Bruce came over to look at the chamber and stared down into Bucky’s unmoving face. “You do know I’m not a medical doctor, right?”

“You’ll do. I think the fewer people that know about this right now, the better. Between the two of us, I’m sure we can figure out”—he waved his hand vaguely at the box—“whatever this is.”

“Can you give us a clue?” Natasha asked, quirking an eyebrow slightly and stepping up to examine the box.

“We found the good Captain’s BFF down in the basement.”

“Barnes?” Bruce looked up and pointed down at the box, eyes wide in surprise. “This is James Barnes?”

“Cap seems to think so,” Tony said. “Certainly looks like him.”

Steve hadn’t looked up from the glass window in the box, not since they left the parking garage. Bucky didn’t look exactly like the pictures the others were probably used to seeing, his hair short and neatly styled. Instead, it was longer, just past his shoulders, just as Steve remembered.

Clint stepped away from the wall and came over to join them, looking down through the glass at Bucky’s face. “Is he—”

Steve knew that his sharp intake of breath must have been loud at the way Clint abruptly stopped and glanced over at him.

“Alright!” Tony clapped his hands together. “First things first. Everyone back away and let JARVIS do his thing. JARVIS, if you please.”

“Of course, sir.”

Steve forced himself to step away, though he kept his eyes on Bucky as long as possible. He then watched uneasily as a beam of light scanned Bucky and the metal chamber from top to bottom to top again.

“JARVIS?” Tony asked. “Tell me what you got.”

“The box containing Sergeant Barnes is not any kind of cryogenic chamber or other device for stasis. There is no obvious locking mechanism. You can reach the hard drive from a compartment in the side of the chamber. There also appears to be a floppy disk in the same compartment.”

“And Barnes.”

“Sergeant Barnes is alive. His heart is beating at a rate of—”

Steve exhaled forcefully. Whatever else JARVIS had to say was lost to him as Steve dropped his head, chin to his chest, and closed his eye to stop the tears from building and will away the sob half formed in his throat.

Alive. Bucky was _alive_. Fifteen months ago, sixty-seven years ago, he had watched one of the few people in the world who really mattered to him fall to his death. And now he was here, alive, in the future. It was almost too much for his brain to process. Steve had finally started to accept it and his place in this new world, and it was all changing again. Hopefully for the better. Hopefully, they could wake him.

“Steve?”

Steve felt a hand on his bicep and looked up into Natasha’s concerned face.

Clint stood close behind with a similar expression. “Are you alright, Cap?”

Steve couldn’t help but smile a little, not just at his friends’ concern, but at the look Natasha gave Clint that clearly said, _“Of course he’s not alright. Do you think before you speak?”_

“I’m alright,” Steve said. He knew his voice rough, but he ignored Natasha’s knowing look and turned back to Tony. “Tony, what’s the next step?” 

“Well…” Tony and Bruce looked at each other, holding a silent conversation that was lost to the others. They seemed to be doing that more and more now that Bruce lived in the tower. “As JARVIS said this isn’t any type of stasis or cryogenic chamber. It’s just a box. It’s not even sealed completely since air is getting in and out. So we can open it whenever you’re ready. Or once we figure out how to. Shouldn’t be a problem.”

“But JARVIS mentioned a hard drive somewhere,” Bruce added. “So, I would recommend seeing what’s on there before we open it up.”

“Once we find it,” Tony muttered.

“Wouldn’t it be best to move him to medical?” Natasha asked. “You know, call in a real doctor, just in case?” 

“Excuse you, I—” Tony started, but Clint quickly cut him off.

“No one wants to hear about your PhDs, Tony. Again.”

“Figure out what’s on the drive first,” Steve spoke up, the barest hint of his Captain America voice coming through. “He’s been fine inside that box for... we don’t even how long. And I’d rather not get a lot of outsiders involved. At least not yet.”

“Aye aye, Captain. You heard the man. Brucey, JARVIS, let’s get to work.”

“I’m just going to go sit over”—Steve waved a hand toward a couch in the corner of the room—“here. You let me know if you need anything.”

“Nope.” Natasha grabbed Steve’s arm before he could move. “You are not going to sit here and brood for however long this takes.” She started to pull him toward the door and raised her voice so Tony and Bruce could hear her. “We’re going to get coffee or lunch or whatever. Call us when you know something.”

*****

Steve didn’t want to be away from Bucky. It was hard to even leave the room, but he was ultimately glad Natasha made him get out of there. The thought of Bucky in that chamber back in the lab was still a dull ache in his heart, but it seemed a little like a dream, more unreal now that it wasn’t staring him in the face. They didn’t even leave the tower, but it was just enough distance. And having lunch surrounded by Clint and Natasha’s good-natured bickering did a lot for his mood.

The past year, since the Battle of New York, things had been better. Steve knew that it was mostly because of these two, with some help from Tony and Bruce. Thor had stayed briefly, but he was needed back in Asgard. They had all been sad to see him go, and hoped that he would return in the future.

Natasha and Clint were great at getting him to at least leave his apartment, to not be alone. All the movie nights and dinners, coffee and lunches, board games and video games and just hanging out in between SHIELD missions. Helping him adjust and being there for him. For each other. Living together like this, the Avengers were really becoming his new family, though they could never replace Bucky. They could never be to him what Bucky was, but they made life in the future better. Worth living. 

Steve was definitely grateful for them at this moment. He could tell Natasha had questions, but they kept the conversation light, knew that he needed to not think about Bucky for a bit. Which was impossible, but at least it wasn’t the only thing on his mind. But it had been a few hours, and the longer they sat here without word from Tony, the more anxious Steve became.

“You have to watch it, Cap. It’s the most relaxing competition show you will ever see,” Clint was saying. “But have food nearby, because you will get hungry. So much food porn.”

“That happens no matter what show you watch,” Steve replied. “I’m starting to think you keep snacks hidden in the couch cushions.” 

“He does,” Natasha said. “If you hear crunching when you sit down, don’t be too worried.”

“Excuse me, Captain Rogers,” JARVIS’s disembodied voice filled what had lovingly been dubbed the Wreck Room. “Your presence is requested in the lab.”

“We’ll be right there,” Steve replied as he stood up. “Thanks, JARVIS.”

Steve tried to keep calm as they walked to the elevator and took the short ride back to the lab. Natasha by his side and Clint at his back did a little to help. They at least held him to a walk, when he really just wanted to sprint all the way back.

“Capsicle!” Tony exclaimed as soon as they walked in. He was sitting to one side near a table with some older computer equipment and a monitor. “Welcome back.”

Tony looked a little off, slightly strained, reaching for his usual indifference and somehow missing it. Alarm bells sounded in his head.

“Find anything?”

“We managed to find the compartment and open it. Which was surprisingly difficult, but good thing I’m a genius. We’ll get to the hard drive in a moment. We found this delightfully retro floppy disk, but when took a look at it, we figured you should be here to see it. Come gather round, children.”

Tony gestured for Steve to have a seat on a stool directly in front of the monitor. When the others had all positioned themselves around the monitor as well, he reached over and tapped a few keys on a nearby keyboard.

On the screen appeared a man with gray hair and a mustache, seated in what was obviously a very nice office. He was older, but Steve immediately recognized Howard Stark, and Tony’s forced nonchalance was suddenly explained. He wondered briefly what Tony thought about seeing his father like this, wanted to reach out and ease the distress but he knew that nothing he said or did would help or even be accepted. Howard’s voice turned his thoughts back to Bucky and the box behind him.

“Hello. I’m going to skip the pleasantries and get straight to the point. I’m getting older and it seems now would be a good time for contingency plans. Steve—and I really hope this is Steve—you probably want the full story, I can’t afford to give it to here. You get the condensed version. After the Valkyrie went down, I looked for you . I did everything I could to find you, but you were just gone. I couldn’t find a trace of you or that goddamn plane. I don’t know what possessed me, but I had to do something for you. So I went looking for him. Figured if I couldn’t find you, at least he wouldn’t be rotting at the base of some mountain. Well, as you can see, I did it. I found him alive and short a limb, but he was there. And let me say, I have no idea how you did it, but you kept one hell of secret.”

“Secret?” Steve heard Tony mutter behind him as Howard continued on screen.

“He never woke up, Steve. I’ve done everything I can to try and wake him, but nothing has worked. The only thing I could do was keep him safe. I hope, I pray to a God I didn’t think was there, that the reason he’s still alive is because you’re still out there and alive as well. I’m still trying to find you. I never really gave up. And I’ll keep trying until I bring you home, back to him.

“Everything I’ve done is on the hard drive, all my research. I hope I’m there with you, but I don’t think that’ll be the case. I hope you’re both well. Good luck.”

The monitor went black, and Steve stared at for a few moments, the room silent behind him.

“So…” Tony turned to look at Steve. “Secret? Ow!” He rubbed the back of his head where Natasha had smacked him.

“So,” Steve started. “Hard drive?”

Tony somehow managed to look offended and disappointed at the same time as he looked from Natasha to Steve. “Yeah, hard drive.”

He tapped a few more keys and turned back to the monitor, which now displayed five grey boxes on the black screen. “This is what we get when we try to access it. It’s password-protected, a rather simple password. JARVIS could easily crack this, but given that it’s very obviously only five characters, we figure that may be a hint to what it is. We’ve tried your name and all variations of Sleeping Beauty’s name, as well as a few other things, with no success. Since it’s likely a hint for you, do you have any ideas before I just sic JARVIS on it?”

Steve just stared at the monitor for a moment. The five little boxes mocking him. He knew exactly what it was, knew now what secret Howard had found out, but no idea how. The sketchbook maybe, but paper and pencil don’t necessarily equal reality. Unless he was just guessing. But…

“Angel,” Steve said.

“Come again?”

Steve assumed everyone else looked just as confused as Tony, though he couldn’t see them.

“Angel,” he said again, slowly. “A-N-G-E-L. That’s it.”

“And you’re sure?”

“Yes. Just type it in,” Steve said, losing patience fast.

“Because that’s a really random password.”

“Type it in or I will, Stark.” Natasha’s slightly annoyed voice came from behind him.

Steve again gave silent thanks for her presence. Hopefully she’d keep him from snapping and strangling Tony, who seemed to be especially adept at pushing his button today. Though that was probably due more to the stress of finding Bucky, but it wouldn’t surprise him if Tony was doing it on purpose. It definitely gave him something to focus on other than Bucky.

Steve watched Tony type the password in, but completely missed whatever happened on screen. As soon as it was in, a sudden noise from the chamber behind them drew all eyes in the room.

Steve held his breath as the top and sides of the chamber lifted and slid away to fully reveal Bucky’s sleeping form. The collective gasps from the others answered the question Steve had been dreading. 

“You can see it.” A statement, not a question.

“Of course we can see it!” Tony exclaimed. “What the fuck is going on?”

“No one’s ever been able to see them before.” Steve moved closer to stand beside the sleeping form of his fallen friend.

Before it _was_ “them.” Two beautiful pure white wings that sprang upward from Bucky’s back and arced gracefully down to the floor. Now there was just one, the left was completely gone. Steve kept his eyes open and on the wing in front of him, but his mind played and replayed the last time he’d seen Bucky with two wings, the moment one was ripped painfully away, and the aftermath that sent Steve spiralling into depression and ultimately into an icy sea.

*****

**1945**

He could see Bucky on the other side of the door, panic and fear clear on his face. He was out of ammo. Steve grabbed his gun and slammed the button to open the door, gesturing at Bucky with his firearm before tossing it over, sounds of gunfire loud in the freight car. Steve saw relief wash over Bucky’s face and with a nod he ran into the car, slamming into one of the cargo bins trying to knock it into the Hydra soldier.

The soldier moved quickly out of the way, but Bucky downed him with a single shot.

Steve felt Bucky come to stand beside him, the soft edge of his wing brushing against Steve’s arm and shield.

Bucky’s eyes remained on the fallen Hydra soldier, though the man wouldn’t be getting back up. Headshots would do that. “I had him on the ropes.”

“I know you did.”

The sudden high-pitched whine of a Hydra weapon charging made Steve turn. The soldier he had knocked out in the other car stood in the doorway preparing to fire. Steve quickly raised his shield and pushed Bucky behind him. He felt the force of the weapon’s energy pulse hit his shield, which fell from his hand as he was sent flying back into the wall of the freight car, head smacking painfully into it.

Steve tried to recover quickly, pushing himself up. The sudden rush of cold air on his face helped to clear his head. He could hear Bucky firing his pistol, followed by that sickening high-pitch whine again. He pushed himself up with greater urgency. He had to get up. He had to protect Bucky.

Steve looked over just as the Hydra soldier fired two shots, watching helplessly as the first flew over the shield in Bucky’s hand and into his wing. Bucky gave a brief agony-filled cry, and in a flash of blue light, the wing was gone. Steve stared disbelieving at the space where the wing had been, shocked and confused. Nothing had ever been able to hurt Bucky or his wing before. Steve had seen bullets pass right through it, but this strange weapon of Hydra’s was different somehow. 

Steve struggled to get up. Bucky’s face was filled with confusion and pain, and he stood frozen, not comprehending what at just happened. The shock of losing his wing distracted him enough that he didn’t expect the second shot hit, which hit the shield and sent him flying back and through gaping hole in the freight car, shield falling to the floor.

Steve was up instantly, grabbing the shield and hurling it at the Hydra soldier. He ran to the opening in the freight car.

“Bucky!” He could see him, clinging to a rail on the torn-out wall of the car, wing tucked tight against his body, trying to prevent it from catching the wind rushing past and throwing him down the side of the mountain. Where the other wing should have been, there was nothing, as if it had never been there to begin with.

Steve climbed out of the train gripping onto another rail and inched closer to Bucky, who was trying desperately to hang on and get back to him. This was all Steve’s fault. Why had he brought Bucky here? Why had he only knocked out that Hydra soldier? He should have disarmed him, killed him. Something. This couldn’t be happening. He couldn’t watch Bucky die.

“Hang on!” Steve slid along to the edge of the rail and extended his hand out to Bucky. “Grab my hand!”

The sound of metal tearing apart was loud even against the rushing wind in his ears. Bucky reached for him, but they were still too far apart. 

“No!”

The rail snapped.

Bucky’s scream and the sight of him falling to the snow below, his wing straining uselessly unable to bear his weight, scorched the walls of Steve’s memory, leaving a blackened stain where there had once been only warmth and light.

*****

Steve could hear yelling behind him. Most of the yelling was Tony. Some Clint. Bruce stayed quiet and out of it entirely, but Steve was just waiting for the moment he snapped and told everyone to just shut the fuck up. It didn’t happen often, but it did happen. And hearing Bruce Banner, The Incredible Hulk, softly tell you to “sit down and shut up” was something Steve did not want to experience. 

It mostly just happened to Tony.

“What don’t you understand?” Clint was saying. “He’s got wings. Well, _a_ wing now. He had wings. He’s a fucking angel.”

“How can he be an angel?” Tony asked, and Steve was starting to worry because he sounded borderline hysterical. “I mean he can’t be an angel. Angel’s don’t exist. I just want someone to tell me _what_ is happening.”

“I don’t get it. You met a god from another planet like a year ago. We fought another god and an army of aliens who fell from a sky portal to another dimension. Why is an angel freaking you out more than that?”

“Because it’s not just any angel. It’s Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes, Captain America’s inseparable childhood friend. We grew up on stories of this guy, and he never had wings in any of them. It makes no sense.”

“You have a reactor in your chest keeping you alive. You’re standing next to a supersoldier and a guy who can turn into a giant green rage monster if you piss him off enough, and the _angel_ doesn’t make sense?”

“Yes,” Tony insisted. He gestured to himself, Steve, and Bruce. “We make sense. We are the results of science and technology. That”—he pointed over at Bucky—“makes no sense.” Tony turned and walked back toward Bruce who was looking through the information from the hard drive. “And I did have my own little freak out about the gods and the aliens. I just didn’t let you see it.”

Steve felt the familiar hand, small and strong, touch his arm.

“Here.” Natasha had pulled over a stool and gestured for Steve to have a seat. “Ignore them. Eventually they’ll wear themselves out and we’ll get back on track.”

Steve sent her a small smile and sat down, sliding the stool as close to Bucky as possible without touching him. Nothing had changed since the chamber had opened. He still looked like he was sleeping peacefully, though the movement of his chest was so slow, slower than a normal sleeping person.

“Today feels like a dream,” Steve said, eyes never leaving Bucky. “Do me a favor, and pinch me a couple dozen times.”

“I don’t know. This is a lot, even for a dream. Maybe I should punch you instead.”

The sound he made was not quite a laugh. “I might not recover.”

Natasha stood by him for a moment more, a companionable silence around them.

“Why don’t you talk to him?” she asked quietly. “You know, if it’s like a coma, talking might help. Touch too. Hold his hand or something.”

Steve’s hand twitched. The temptation to reach out and touch Bucky had been constant since the box opened, constant his whole life really, but there was also a fear in the back of his mind that this was all a dream or some sort of elaborate trick and as soon as he touched him, Bucky would change or disappear. Irrational, but there nonetheless.

Natasha squeezed his shoulder lightly. “I’ll be over with the idiots.” She walked away, giving him a small illusion of privacy.

Steve thanked her softly as she walked away, but never took his eyes off Bucky. He had scanned every visible inch of him when the chamber had opened, looking for any sign of injury, but Bucky looked perfect, flawless as always, except for the wing he was lacking. He was shirtless, his chest pale and white and almost completely still. Steve had to stare at it for a while to actually see the gentle rise and fall of it. He wore hospital scrubs, baggy and loose and tied at the waist.

Steve had asked Bucky once about his clothes, when they were kids. How he always found clothes to accommodate his wings. Bucky had just looked at him with a little smirk and said, “Angel magic, Stevie. Nothing but angel magic.” That had been the answer to a lot of questions when they were kids. So much so that eventually Steve had stopped asking, which had probably been Bucky’s goal all along.

Steve’s hand twitched slightly as he sat by Bucky’s side, aching to reach out and touch. He finally gave in and took Bucky’s hand with trembling fingers. His grip was loose, and he softly stroked his thumb along the back of Bucky’s hand.

How many times had Bucky sat beside Steve, just like this? Every time he was sick, holding his hand, stroking his hair, whispering quietly to him that everything would be alright. Steve had been sick so many times as a child. Bucky must have been by his bed constantly, even before Steve saw him that very first time.

*****

**1927**

The pain and fever dreams were starting to get to Steve. He could do nothing but lay still in the fever-induced haze, panting and gasping for breath, and for relief. But even the dreams were starting to slip away, leaving only a darkness in their place. A black void that called to him in a soothing voice. He resisted. It wasn’t his mother’s voice and that was the only thing that usually soothed him when he was this sick.

Steve didn’t know what it was this time. Scarlet fever, diphtheria, whooping cough. He’d had them all, and they just seemed to blend together into a fog of pain and hurt. He knew it was bad this time, though. His mother tried to make it better, and she said he was going to be fine, but he knew her too well. He could see the lie in her eyes.

He was going to die.

A soothing voice called out to him again, but it was different this time. It wasn’t the darkness, but a light—warm and peaceful and filled with love. He wanted so badly to reach for it, but what if it was a lie, a trick? It didn’t matter in the end, the light washed over him anyway, and suddenly the pain and fever were gone.

It took Steve a while to realize that neither the hand gently stroking his hair nor the hushed voice speaking softly in his ear belonged to his mother. When he opened his eyes, he could see her curled up in the chair by his bed sound asleep. He should have been afraid. A strange person had somehow entered their apartment after all. But Steve felt nothing but peace. His body was maybe a little tired, but relaxed and free of any pain.

“Shhh, it’s alright,” the calming voice whispered in his ear. “You’re alright. I’m here. I’ll always be here.”

Steve turned to look at the newcomer, but feathers filled his vision. Soft-looking, snowy-white feathers. As he struggled to take in what he was seeing, he realized the feathers were actually part of a wing, and that the wings belonged to a boy, one about his age with soft blue-gray eyes, a sweet face, and a fall of dark hair.

 _Mama was right,_ he thought. _The angels do look after me._

“Hi,” Steve whispered softly, his voice still rough from the illness. “Are you my guardian angel?”

The angel looked surprised, then suddenly sad, and slowly took his hand away from Steve’s hair. “I am.”

“And you made me better.”

“I did.”

“What’s your name?”

“Buchanan.”

Steve grimaced and wrinkled his nose. “That’s a dumb name. Doesn’t sound like an angel’s name.”

Buchanan laughed softly. “You were expecting Gabriel? Or maybe Michael? They probably have better things to do. Busy, you know.”

“Well, I guess that’s true. But I’m not calling you Buchanan.”

“You’re not, huh?” Buchanan seemed to find this particularly amusing. “Well, what are you going to call me, then?”

Steve looked into those blue-gray eyes long and hard before declaring, quite decisively, “Bucky.”

“Bucky?” The look on his face was one surprised confusion.

“Yup, Bucky,” Steve said, trying to stay very serious, though he really wanted to laugh at the expression on his angel’s face. “It suits you.”

“How do you know it suits me?” he asked, seeming genuinely interested in Steve’s answer. “You just met me.”

“I don’t know. You look like a Bucky, I guess. It’s a good name, trust me. Better than _Buchanan_.” When he said the name, his face twisted, nose scrunching up. “That makes you sound like a president or something. Not an angel. Don’t worry. It’s a very good name.”

“Huh. Well, okay then.” He seemed a little stunned, but finally shrugged and said, “Good thing I like it then, huh? Since it’s such a good name.”

Steve returned his smile and laughed. “Yeah, good thing,” he said with a small nod. This was going to be so cool. Steve had his very own guardian angel. What do you do with your very own guardian angel? “I’m going to take you to a baseball game,” he announced.

Bucky smiled down at him again. “That’s sounds real fun, Stevie, but why don’t you get some rest right now? You can tell me about it tomorrow.” He went back stroking Steve’s hair.

Steve was suddenly overcome by a yawn, his body starting to feel heavy and he was having trouble keeping his eyes open. “You’ll be here when I wake up?”

“Of course. Said I’d always be here, didn’t I?”

*****

Steve released Bucky’s hand and stood slowly, moving to sit in the narrow space next to his Bucky’s hips. He grasped his Bucky’s hand in his again, but reached forward to run his fingers through his long hair with the other, playing gently with the edges. Everyone else had always seen Bucky with short hair, it was how he appeared in any pictures. Short hair, styled and neatly parted. Steve had always seen it long. It looked more… angelic that way, but Bucky was still so striking in the pictures Steve had seen, handsome.

Bucky even had a dusting of stubble along his jaw. Steve cupped Bucky’s cheek and ran his thumb along the prickly hairs. That was new. His face had always looked smooth and soft before.

He leaned forward, bringing his face closer to Bucky’s and brushing his hair back away from his face, just like Bucky had when he was sick all those times, all those years ago. Steve whispered softly, “It’s alright, Buck. You’re alright.” He squeezed his hand and continued to stroke Bucky’s hair, closing his eyes when he could feel the tears building again. “I’m here. I’ll always be here.”

Steve almost jumped back when he heard the deep inhale from Bucky and felt the sharp rise of his chest. Bucky turned his head slightly to press his face against Steve’s hand and made a small sound, like a whimper.

“Bucky?” Steve resisted the urge to do anything jarring, like shake him awake. He forced himself to keep up the soft motions. “You’re alright. It’s Steve. I’m here.” He didn’t realize his voice was rising in volume, no longer a soft whisper, until he sensed the others come to stand behind him.

“What’s happening? Is he awake?” Tony spoke from Bucky’s other side.

“He moved. He made a sound.” Steve knew he was starting to sound panicked. Did he imagine it? Was he going insane? The day was catching up with him and he was finding it hard to remain calm. “Bucky, I’m here, I’m here. Please wake up. Please...”

No, he didn’t imagine it. He could feel Bucky’s breaths deepening, could see Bucky’s eyes moving slightly beneath his lids.

“Steve…” A soft exhale, but recognizable. Bucky’s eyelids twitched slightly a few times and finally opened to look directly up at Steve. “Stevie?”

“Bucky...” Too much. It was too much. The events of the day finally did catch up with him then and he let the emotions overtake him at last. Steve hunched over to rest his head on Bucky’s shoulder. He wrapped his arms around as much of Bucky as he was able, and let the tears silently fall, his breath hitching occasionally.

He felt Bucky move after a time and wrap gentle arms around him, hands softly stroking up and down. Steve could feel Bucky hushing him and muttering reassurances even though he couldn’t really process what was being said. It was selfish and unfair, but he couldn’t stop. Bucky had been awake for seconds, surrounded by the new and unfamiliar, and his first instinct was still to comfort Steve.

When he finally forced himself to calm down and allowed the tears to stop, Steve was afraid to sit up and face his teammates. They’d never seen him display this level of emotion. No one had. Even when Bucky fell, Steve had saved his tears for private moments away from pitying eyes and remained stoic in front of the others. Their captain had been outwardly strong and calm even when facing the loss they knew he had suffered.

Bucky saved him from at least part of the awkwardness.

“I don’t know you,” Bucky stated, voice a little rough from almost seventy years of disuse. “Any of you. Where am I?”

“The real question, Sergeant,” Tony said, “is _when_ are you?”

“Tony,” Steve said sitting up and looking down into Bucky’s confused face. He casually wiped the last of the tears from his cheeks, trying to remove any evidence of his breakdown. “Can you at least pretend to be a normal person for five minutes?” He looked back down at Bucky and smiled softly. “Hey Buck.”

“Hey Stevie,” Bucky said with an answering smile.

Steve could see the confusion in Bucky’s eyes. This was going to be lot to take in and there really wasn’t a gentle way to do it.

“How are you feeling?”

“I feel…” Bucky trailed off. He looked suspicious and his eyes searched Steve’s face before he continued. “I feel fine. Maybe a little tired and groggy, like I had a long nap. Should I not feel fine?”

“What’s the last thing you remember?” Steve asked quietly.

“I… Um… I—” Bucky started his eyes distant and unfocused, but Natasha appeared suddenly at their sides with a cup, probably water, offering Bucky the straw.

 _Should’ve thought of that._ Steve was always grateful for Natasha. She thought of everything, was always ten steps ahead, whether on a mission for SHIELD or taking care of a friend.

“Thank you,” Bucky said, reaching for the cup, leaving an obvious question at the end.

“Natasha.”

“Thank you, Natasha.”

Even with the straw Bucky needed to sit up to drink. Steve reached out, grasping Bucky’s forearms, pulling him to sit. He was looking Bucky straight in face and couldn’t miss the moment Bucky realized, couldn’t miss the agony he tried to hide. He would feel unbalanced sitting up like this, one side heavy with the weight of his wing, the other unmistakably light.

“Steve.” There was a question in Bucky’s voice even though Steve could see in his eyes that he already knew the answer.

“They can see it, Bucky.” Steve told him, trying to reassure him that he didn’t need to hide his anguish from the others. He gripped Bucky's shoulders tighter. “They’re friends, and they know. It’s okay.”

“Oh, god, Steve.” Bucky whispered. He dropped his head forward to rest on Steve’s shoulder, his hands gripping Steve’s forearms where he still held on. He took several deep breaths and Steve was sure he was holding back tears, but he continued in that same hushed voice. “I remember the line to the train, Zola’s train. I remember the Hydra rifle, and the pain, and falling…” He trailed off. Steve didn’t know what to do, so he just held on, wrapping his arms around Bucky’s shoulders, pulling him close, and offering what little comfort he could.

Steve tried not to look at the others. Part of him was glad they were here, but they’d witnessed his own breakdown and now Bucky’s pain was laid bare before them.

Eventually, Bucky pulled back and looked up at Steve, his eyes still filled with hurt, but Steve could see him reign in the pain, pull it back and push it away. He needed to know what had happened, gather all the information about the situation that he could. Steve marvelled at his strength but wanted nothing more than to take the pain away.

“I don’t understand,” Bucky said softly. “I should be dead. How did I survive the fall, how am I even here?”

“We don’t know exactly,” Steve said. “All I know is that Howard found you, and you’ve been... asleep for almost seventy years.”

Bucky stared at him like he’d gone mad. “Asleep. For seventy years.”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. I admit the room does look very futuristic, but you... you’re not old. You’d be old. Or-or…”

“I may have also been asleep for about the same amount of time,” Steve said. “It’s probably a bit much to explain right now…”

Bucky just raised an eyebrow and stared at Steve.

“I mean…” So maybe Steve just really didn’t want to explain the whole crashing a plane into the ocean thing. Or the fighting aliens like two months after waking up from the ice thing. Or… any of the dumb shit he knew he did between when Bucky fell and now. 

A hand clapped Steve roughly on the shoulder.

“We got you on this one, Cap,” Clint said from behind him.

“We’ll give him the condensed version though,” Tony said.

“Guys, wait.”

“Don’t worry,” Natasha said, and Steve was kind of terrified of the gleam in her eyes. “We’ll hit all the important stuff.”

He gave up and let the others take over from there. They introduced themselves to Bucky and quickly explained everything that happened, and Steve was again grateful for his future friends. They were straightforward and lighthearted about the whole thing, adding just the right amount of humor. It probably wouldn’t end well for Steve later, but it took Bucky’s mind off of his missing wing. Mostly directing his attention, and frustration and anger, at Steve. He could live with that. The pain would come back, but they would deal with it privately. Together. In the meantime, let them just forget for a short time.

And Bucky was really not amused by much of what they were telling him.

“You’re telling me you basically _walked in_ the _front door_ of Schmidt’s base?”

“I was dead for five minutes and you crashed a _plane_ into the _ocean_? What the everliving _fuck,_ Steve?”

“Aliens? You were awake two months and fought aliens. Aliens from space and a god. Alongside these assholes and another god? Do you have a fucking deathwish?”

“Hey,” Bruce called from behind them. He had continued to look through Howard’s hard drive during most of the story. “ _I_ am not an asshole. It’s just those three.”

“Well, the Other Guy is a bit of an asshole, you have to admit,” added Tony.

“Alright, alright,” Steve shouted. “Look that’s pretty much the extent of the Stupid Things Steve Has Done. I live here, and I work with these guys. That’s it.”

“Sure, Stevie, if you say so.” Bucky smiled at him, obviously unconvinced, and that smile sent him straight back in time, happy and laughing and so very Bucky.

Steve laughed and shook his head. “Bruce,” he called, “how are we coming on the hard drive?”

“I’ve gone through a lot of the files, but I really need Tony to take a look at some of this,” Bruce said, turning in his chair to look at them. “Bucky, if you’re feeling okay, maybe Steve can take you upstairs and get you settled, show you around the tower. Tony and I will go through this and we can discuss it tomorrow.”

“Okay, but once again,” Natasha said, “should we not go get a real doctor to look him over?”

“It’s really not necessary,” Bucky responded quickly. “Besides, how do you plan to explain this?” He tilted his head in the direction of his remaining wing.

“At the very least, JARVIS has been monitoring your vitals while you guys were talking, and everything appears to be normal,” Bruce said. “Based on what I’ve found in Howard’s notes, I don’t really know what else we can do at this point.”

Steve gave Bucky a searching look. “You sure you’re feeling alright?”

Bucky smiled but his answer was firm. “I am _fine_ , Steve. Just been asleep awhile. You know how that goes.” He smirked. “Get me out of here. Show me the future.”

“Okay,” Steve said helping Bucky to his feet. He hovered nearby as Bucky stood and took a few steps away, expecting Bucky to be a little weak or maybe stiff. He seemed fine though, stretching his arms slightly and walking normally.

“Uh, I guess we’ll give you the grand tour then,” Steve said, watching Bucky eye some of the tech Tony had on a nearby table.

“Wait! But I have questions,” Tony complained. “We answered his questions. I have things I need to know!”

“Tomorrow, Tony,” Steve called as he followed Bucky, Natasha, and Clint toward the elevator.

*****

The grand tour was short. The Avengers’ floors of the tower mostly consisted of living spaces, training rooms, the gym, and the Wreck Room. And Tony’s lab, but they’d already seen that enough for one day.

Steve let Natasha and Clint play tour guide while he remained Bucky’s silent shadow. He watched Bucky’s face closely for any signs of distress, but outwardly Bucky seemed nothing but calm and completely interested in everything Clint and Natasha had to say. Steve could still see the pain in his eyes though, whenever he got a little unbalanced in his walk, occasionally thrown off by the lack of weight on one side.

In the Wreck Room, they gave Bucky a spare StarkPad and spent some time showing him how to use it, loading it with helpful books and saving interesting websites. Throughout the whole thing, Bucky just smiled and asked questions, easily taking to the unfamiliar device. Steve wasn’t surprised. Bucky had always been excited about new inventions and technology. Steve had never seen him more excited than at the Stark Expo in 1943 when he walked alongside Steve, practically dragging him around and enthusiastically pointing out each innovation. It had been a great day.

Until the end at least. He’d never seen Bucky angrier either, than when Steve met Dr. Erskine.

Eventually, they left Clint and Natasha in the Wreck Room and Steve led Bucky to his apartment. All of the Avengers’ apartments were the same, except Tony’s of course. Two bedrooms, two bathrooms. Steve had been wondering since he moved in why he needed a second bedroom. It wasn’t like he knew many people outside the ones who already lived in the tower. He was glad to have it now though.

While Bucky looked through all the things saved on his StarkPad, Steve made them dinner. As an angel, Bucky had never really had to eat but sometimes he would, out of curiosity or goading from Steve. After Steve’s mother died though, they always sat down together for meals. Sometimes Bucky would eat, sometimes not, but he would sit across from Steve and simply be there, a comfortable presence to go along with the ritual.

Steve made something simple, just in case, unsure how Bucky’s stomach would handle food after seventy years, but he seemed perfectly fine. When they sat down at the small table in the kitchen, Bucky ate while he asked questions about whatever he had been reading. From what Steve could tell, he seemed to have fallen down the Wikipedia rabbit hole.

Once Steve finished with the dishes, however, he sensed a change in the atmosphere of the apartment. He entered the living room to find the StarkPad abandoned on the couch and Bucky looking out the window at the city below, his back to Steve. The apartment faced southeast, toward Brooklyn. He couldn’t see it of course, but it was a nice thought nonetheless.

“Bucky,” Steve said softly as he approached. He laughed quietly, though there was no humor in it. “I want to ask if you’re alright, but I know it’s a stupid question.”

“Yeah. It is.” Bucky didn’t look at him. “Why am I here, Steve? I don’t get this, I should be dead.”

“But you’re _not,_ you’re alive. You’re here. And I’m here. That’s the only thing that matters.”

“You don’t understand. I’m not an angel anymore. I should be human, but I don’t seem to be that either. Why would they do this to me? Leave me half of what I was? It makes no sense. It made no sense _then_.”

“You’re right, Bucky, I don’t understand.” Steve tried hard not to sound exasperated, but this had been an argument of theirs since his childhood. “And if you want me to, I’m going to need you to explain this to me, and I mean actually explain it to me this time. No more of that ‘angel magic’ bullshit you threw my way when we were kids. If you’re not an angel anymore, there’s no rules over you, right? Just tell me.”

Bucky looked at Steve briefly, his expression hesitant and filled with pain. “I’ve Fallen, I should be human and I’m not.” He looked down and leaned his forehead against the glass, closing his eyes. He took a deep breath before continuing. “As an angel, I can’t—couldn’t interfere in your free will, or any of the consequences of your actions. I could only guide you and hope you made the right decisions. It’s rare for an angel to Fall. No angel has interfered in a very, _very_ long time. And each time I did I lost a little of my power, and ultimately should have become human. _Completely_ human. No wings, no magic, nothing. Three strikes and you’re out, right?”

“Three?” Steve asked. “What were the three?”

“You know the first. And the second at least.”

“When I first saw you. When I was sick and you healed me.”

“I’ve been around for millennia and was never once tempted to intervene.” He turned suddenly and looked at Steve, eyes boring into his with such intensity. “But you… I could see your were special, made for something great. You were going to die and I couldn’t let you.”

“Millennia?” Steve asked in confusion. “What do you mean millennia? When I first saw you, you were a child, my age.”

“I was who you needed me to be.”

Steve stayed silent for a minute, contemplating these new revelations. “And the second? Austria?”

*****

**1943**

Steve continued to stare at the closed elevator doors that Schmidt had just vanished behind, when another explosion from the floor below rocked the factory. He quickly scanned the area and saw a door high above on the other side of the warehouse. He turned and pushed Bucky along toward the stairs. “Come on!”

Steve hurried quickly up the stairs to the top level, Bucky close behind him. He could see the door on the other side, but there was no way across. The walkway Schmidt had retracted must have been the only way. He walked toward the railing and peered over the edge. There was a beam, narrow but walkable, leading to the other side.

Steve glanced behind him at Bucky. “I think this is the only way.”

“Steve...”

He could feel the heat from the fires below as he looked down at the beam. Explosions continued to shake the building. It would be risky but there was no other way. Steve grabbed the rail and climbed over, ready to step forward. As he placed his foot carefully on the beam, a large explosion sounded and he could feel the beam trembling underneath his foot, beginning to slide down.

Just as the beam broke loose, arms came around him and hauled him back over the railing. Bucky pulled him over and practically threw him down to lay sprawled on the floor. Steve looked up at Bucky, who was now frantically searching the factory for any other way to get over to that door.

“There’s gotta be a rope or something,” Bucky called over the explosions.

Steve stared at him for a second, eyes really seeing him, and yelled, “Just go, get out of here!”

“What?” Bucky looked down at him, eyes narrowed in fury.

“Go! Fly out of here!” Steve had never seen Bucky fly, had forgotten that might be a thing that Bucky could do.

“No!” he shouted. “Not without you!” Bucky looked at him for a long moment, like he was debating with himself, but he finally growled out, so low that Steve could barely hear him, “Damn it, Steve.”

Steve felt an arm behind his back and another behind his knees, as Bucky lifted him up, all two hundred pounds of him, and effortlessly cradled him close to his chest. Steve may have forgotten about the wings, but he had no idea Bucky was this strong. He felt Bucky’s wings spread wide as he walked toward the railing and the fires below.

“Are sure about this, Buck?”

The only answer Steve got was a rush of air and the soft beat of wings. 

*****

“That makes sense now,” Steve said. “Why the others could suddenly see you, even if they couldn’t see all of you.” It had been a shock to both of them when they met up with the others and they had not only greeted him, but Bucky as well. None of them knew him, but they just assumed he was another liberated POW. “What was the third? What came after Austria?”

Bucky laughed, but it was dark and weary. He returned to looking out the window. “Everything came after Austria, Steve. I said fuck it, I’d rather be human anyway. I took up a rifle and joined your band of howling idiots. I gave up, and I did whatever it took to keep your sorry ass alive.” Bucky got quiet again, and when he continued his voice was near a whisper. “I thought, first shot I took at some soldier, right between the eyes, I’d turn around and they’d be gone. Like they were never there. But it never happened.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know! Don’t you get it?” Bucky cried. “Everything about this is wrong!” He turned and walked back into the living room. “Why did I survive the fall? Why was I left this way? I can only think that either I am meant to stay here, to accomplish something or...” He paused and his voice held such sorrow as he said, “Or this is punishment. I went too far, and this is the price I have to pay.”

“No.” Steve walked toward Bucky and abruptly turned him around, placing his hands on Bucky’s shoulders. “You are not being punished. Why lead you back to me then?” He stepped closer then wrapping his arms around Bucky’s shoulders. “This is a gift, Bucky.”

“Steve.” Bucky’s arms were hesitant but eventually they slid around Steve’s waist and Bucky relaxed into the embrace.

They stayed like that for a long moment, just taking comfort in each other, until Bucky stepped back, arms still loosely holding Steve’s waist, and whispered, “What am I going to do now?”

“It doesn’t matter. We’ll figure it out,” Steve replied. “Whatever it is, I’m with you til the end of the line.”

*****

**1936**

“Fuck, Steve, just stay down!”

Steve could hear Bucky yelling at him. Or he thought Bucky was yelling at him. The asshole he was fighting had managed to hit his good ear, so there was a bit of a ringing at the moment. But Bucky always yelled at him when he got into these situations, so he was probably yelling at him now.

Steve braced himself on the wall of the building and pushed up to stand and face the tall man blocking the end of the alley. “That all you got?” He brought his arms up, fists in front of his face. “’Cause I could do this all day.”

“Smart mouth, kid.” The man sneered. “But it’s going to get you killed one day.”

Steve wasn’t sure what happened after that. He was on the ground. His right leg was in a puddle of unknown origin and he really didn’t want to focus too much on what it was being this closer to the trash cans. The ringing in his ears had stopped, so he could clearly hear Bucky yelling at him this time.

“Damn it, Steve! You’re going to get yourself killed and I’m going to have to watch it happen!”

He felt the hands on his arms, rolling him onto his back and forcing him to sit up. The world spun for a moment and his vision started to fade around the edges.

“Wait, wait.” Steve grabbed onto Bucky’s forearms before he could be pulled to standing. “I think I’m going to throw up.” The blackness stopped and his vision returned to normal. “No. No, I’m good.”

“No. No, you are not good.” Bucky helped him up and threw Steve’s arm over his shoulders guiding him out of the alley and back toward Steve’s apartment. “You’ve got a deathwish and don’t listen to reason. You are so far from good.”

“You could step in anytime to help me out, you know. That guy’s nothing but a bully.”

“I can’t step in and you know it. No one can see me.”

“Then what do they see right now, huh? Me with my arm up the air, limping along. I probably look like a lunatic.”

“They see what they want to see. Or they don’t see anything at all,” Bucky said, a little exasperated. He’d explained this to Steve a million times before. “I can’t intervene directly in what you do and I definitely can’t go around hitting assholes just because you can’t keep your mouth shut.”

They reached Steve’s apartment. Bucky opened the front door and guided Steve in, shoving him down into one of the kitchen chairs.

“You’re intervening right now, what do you think this is?”

Bucky glared at him. “Walking you home and wiping the blood off your face doesn’t change anything. Doesn’t make you any less of a suicidal fool. Now sit down, shut up, and let me take a look at what you’ve done to yourself.”

Steve watched as Bucky grabbed some supplies and set to work cleaning up his abused face. His lip was split and swollen and he likely had a black eye, but it was nothing he hadn’t experienced before.

“Why do you do this to yourself, Stevie?” Bucky whispered as he dabbed a towel at Steve’s lip. “Why do you pick fights like this? I don’t like a bully either, but you can’t stop them all. You can’t keep doing this.”

Steve tried to ignore him, looked over Bucky’s shoulder, following the pattern of feathers on his wing, but Bucky grabbed his chin and tilted his head, forcing Steve to look him in the eyes.

“You’ve been doing it more and more. One day you’re going to go down, and you’re not going to get back up. And I won’t be able to do a thing about it.”

“You could,” Steve said quietly.

“What?”

“You could,” he repeated, his voice louder and filled with anger. “If you really wanted to, you could do something about it. But you won’t.”

“Steve…” Bucky flinched and let go of Steve, looking away.

He immediately felt terrible for what he had said. He had seen the hurt in Bucky’s eyes, but he couldn’t hold back anymore. It had been eating at him for months now. “I know you can heal me, you’ve done it before. You saved me, and you could’ve saved her, but you didn’t. You saved some sick, weak little kid, good for nothing, why not her? Why did you let her die?” He was shouting now.

“You don’t understand, Steve. I can’t just do that.”

“Why not?” he screamed.

“There are consequences for my actions. I wasn’t supposed to save you but I did. And I paid for my transgression.” Bucky looked back up at him. “I’d do it again. I don’t regret it, but don’t think I didn’t pay for it.”

Steve looked at Bucky with trembling eyes. “Bucky.” His voice wavered. He could feel the tears trying to break free. He’d held them at bay too long now. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I just… I just I don’t want to be here alone.”

Bucky placed his hand on the back of Steve’s neck and rested his forehead against Steve’s. “You’re not. You’re never going to be alone, Stevie. I’m with you. I’m with you til the end of line.”

*****

It was about six thirty in the morning when Steve finally gave up and decided to get out of bed. Sleep had been hard to come by and when he did manage to, his dreams were filled with memories, influenced by the previous day and the new resident of his apartment.

He and Bucky had tried to forget again for awhile. Steve had put on the next movie on his list and they’d sat restlessly on the couch, neither really paying attention but no longer in the mood for any conversation. It wasn’t awkward really, just quiet. Steve had finally tried to sleep around midnight, though he had probably only got in an hour or two of actual sleep. He had no idea what time Bucky had gone to bed.

Steve pushed back the covers and climbed to his feet, grabbing his gym clothes as he headed for the bathroom. When he exited again and headed toward the living room, he found Bucky sitting on the couch exactly where he had left him the night before, curled up in the corner, wing folded gently into his side, tablet in his hands. Steve’s lingered on the arc of his wing and planes of his bare chest. Bucky was still shirtless. They were going to have to do something about that. Maybe he could cut a slit in one of his T-shirts.

“Did you sleep?”

Bucky didn’t look up. “I think I’ve slept enough.”

Steve just stared at him, not knowing what to say. The situation was all too familiar, but he still couldn’t find the right words. “I’m gonna head out for a run. I’ll make breakfast when I get back?”

Bucky made a soft noise of agreement, eyes still on the screen in front of him.

The chill of the late October morning helped to clear his head, and the repetitive motion of his feet kept Steve’s mind wonderfully blank as he lapped Central Park an unknown number of times. It was well after eight when he returned to the apartment to shower and make breakfast. Bucky did not appear to have moved.

As Steve made breakfast and they ate quietly at the small kitchen table, the once companionable silence started to turn awkward and tense. Or maybe that was just Steve. He wanted to say something, anything, but the words refused to form. His fingers itched to touch Bucky, but there was a distance between them this morning and Steve didn’t know if it was real or all in his head.

He finally gave up and suggested they go see how Tony and Bruce were doing with the information on the hard drive.

“You think they’re awake?” Bucky asked, looking across the table at him.

“I doubt Tony slept, but Bruce should be awake and coherent at least.” Steve cleared the plates from the table and gestured for Bucky to follow him.

When they reached the lab, they found Tony examining a hologram of something JARVIS had projected into the middle of the room. They couldn’t tell what exactly it was—Tony was blocking most of it from view—but it looked like complicated mechanical and electrical diagrams. Steve doubted he’d be able to tell much about what it was anyway.

Bruce wasn’t in the room, but Natasha was lounging on the small couch in the corner, scrolling through something on her phone and talking to Clint who stood nearby.

As they walked through the door, Tony turned and gave them both a quick once over. “Oh good. You finally decided to join us,” he said, banishing the projection behind him.

“Where’s Bruce?” Steve asked.

“Top secret mission, should be back soon,” Tony replied, eyes trailing over Bucky. “You know, as much as I, and the rest of us I’m sure, appreciate the view, Sergeant, you _can_ put a shirt on. Or does Cap not have any to spare? Did he stretch them all out?”

“Don’t change anything on my account,” Natasha called from the couch, followed by a noise of agreement from Clint.

“I’ll find a pair of scissors later,” Steve said, “but we’ll need to figure out something more permanent.”

Tony just stared at them, looking confused by the seeming non sequitur.

“Can’t get the shirt around the wing, smart guy,” Bucky enunciated slowly.

“Right.” Tony nodded minutely but still looked slightly confused. “Right. Well, yeah, but, what did you do before?”

“Angel magic,” Steve and Bucky said at the same time, Steve glaring over at Bucky, whose expression remained deadpan, though Steve could tell he was holding back a smile.

“What?” Tony asked flatly, sending them both a narrow-eyed glare.

Natasha and Clint looked alternately confused and intrigued.

Steve gave an exasperated sigh and explained. “When I was a kid, every time I asked Bucky a question, about being an angel or something he could do or how people saw him, that was the answer I got. Angel magic. Eventually, I stopped asking and just went with it.”

Bucky shrugged, looking just at least a little apologetic. “If it’s any consolation, I probably can’t explain it in any way that makes sense.”

Steve looked at him again expectantly, eyebrows raised slightly, and waited for him to continue. He had a feeling the others were sending similar looks Bucky’s way, as he shifted slightly on his feet.

Bucky finally sighed and started walking toward the couch. “If we’re starting the interrogation, at least let me get comfortable.” He sat next to Natasha and leaned back into the corner of the couch, bringing his wing tight against his side, legs folded and tucked under him. 

Steve stood next to Clint, leaning back against the wall, while Tony slid a stool over and sat close by.

Just as Bucky was about to begin, the door opened and Bruce came into the lab.

“Hey, you’re just in time,” Clint called.

Bruce paused and looked over at them with a slightly perplexed expression. “In time for what?”

“I’m about to get grilled about all things angel, come have a seat,” Bucky said drily. He waited while Bruce got settled and the others explained about the shirt conundrum and his gratuitous use of the phrase _angel magic_ , but when they turned to look at him again, he was suddenly hesitant.

“Okay. Right. So, I guess the best way to describe it would be like a glamour?” More a question than a statement. Bucky spoke slowly, unsure. “People saw what they wanted to see, or what I wanted them to see. My hair, my face, my clothes, whatever.” He stopped and made a slightly frustrated noise, running a hand through his long hair and brushing it away from his face. “Look the powers I have,” Bucky started, then paused. “Had. The powers I had I couldn’t necessarily control. And they would come and go, evolve as I needed them and as I began to Fall. I mean, why would I even need a glamour if no one could see me?” He growled slightly. “Sorry, none of this is making any sense, is it?”

“I think what you’re trying to say,” Clint jumped in, “is that you have no fucking clue.”

“I really have no fucking clue about any of this.” Bucky dropped his head into his hands. “I’m just as lost as you all are. Things just kind of happened the way I needed them to.”

“Well that was helpful,” Tony said, sounding unimpressed.

“Why don’t you start from the beginning?” Natasha suggested. “Tell us what you do know. Like how did you and Steve meet?”

“And you mentioned ‘Falling,’” Bruce said. “What does that mean exactly?”

“I was given charge of Steve at his birth, though he couldn’t see me at the time. That changed when he was about eight or nine.” Bucky tells them something similar to what he had told Steve the previous night, adding in the parts that Steve would already know but that the history books got wrong, from Steve’s near death experience at age nine to saving him from the exploding weapons factory in Austria.

“Wait, wait,” Tony interrupts. “Austria? I thought you went behind enemy lines to get Bucky? Because you heard he was presumed killed in action.”

“I went behind enemy lines because men needed to be saved and I was tired of being a propaganda-spewing puppet for the Army.”

“When we got back, I had Fallen,” Bucky continues. “Well, mostly. Everyone could see me, so we made up the story about being Steve’s childhood friend. Wasn’t exactly a lie.”

“My imaginary friend?” Steve joked.

“Hey, I was just a little invisible at the time.”

“And everyone believed you? Just like that?” Natasha asked.

Bucky dropped his head back onto the couch and Steve let his drop forward into his hands as they both replied, “Angel magic.”

“Yeah, that’s not frustrating at all,” Tony griped.

“Tell me about it,” Steve agreed.

“So you come back into camp with a bunch of POWs, including some guy that no one has ever seen before, and everyone just believed that he was a Sergeant even though there was no record of him.”

“But there are records of him,” Tony insisted. “I’ve seen them.”

“I can’t explain it,” Bucky said, sounding resigned.

“And we didn’t really want to question it, bring it to anyone’s attention,” Steve added.

“And you asked why I freaked out,” Tony muttered. “This. Magic. Yeah nope, I’m out.” He stood and walked back toward the his work area. “Bruce, you have any luck on your errand?”

Bruce stood and went to join Tony. Natasha seemed to be asking Bucky a few more questions. If she was looking for solid answers, she was going to be disappointed.

Next to him, Clint turned his head and asked, “So, was it whooping cough or scarlet fever?”

“Hell if I know, I had them all at some point.”

“You ever just want to punch those anti-vax people right in the face?”

“All the fucking time.”

Tony looked up suddenly from his quiet conversation with Bruce. “Shirts,” he called. “I forgot about the shirts. I got you covered. Literally. I’ve got a tailor, so we’ll bring him in and work something out.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Natasha said. “I’ll take care of it.”

Tony looked at her slightly taken aback. “But I’ve got a tailor…”

“Tony, your tailor is seventy-five years old and takes care of your suits. Bucky doesn’t need suits, he needs everyday clothes. Work clothes. You know something with style.”

“Work clothes?” Steve muttered, confused.

“I’ve got style,” Tony protested.

“I know someone, so just let me handle it.”

“I definitely appreciate that, but how do you plan to explain this?” Bucky asked, pointing over his shoulder.

“We’ll figure it out as we go,” Natasha responded. “There’s been a lot of… different things happening over the last couple years. I don’t think this will qualify as the weirdest.”

“That’s one way of putting it,” Clint muttered.

“Besides, you can’t stay in the tower forever, Rapunzel,” Tony said. “Now, can we _please_ move on to the science portion of the discussion before the magic stuff gives me an aneurysm. Bruce, why don’t you lead off.”

“Alright,” Bruce said. He sat in front of the computer they had used the previous day but made no move to turn it on, just stayed facing them. “So, Tony and I went through all the files on the hard drive. The initial files we found are basically medical records, x-rays and scans that Howard performed over the years, as well as the results of a few different blood tests. Those had some interesting though not surprising results. All of the tests suggest that your blood is actually very close to Steve’s, meaning you likely have similar capabilities, especially in terms of accelerated healing. Your red blood cell count is also extremely high. Howard’s guess was that this allows for super oxygenated blood, which you would need for the stress of flight.” Bruce paused and looked at Bucky searchingly, possibly to gauge his reaction to this information or any of the new information about to come. “All of the other files contain research on the construction and attachment of a prosthetic wing.”

“A prosthetic… ” Bucky trailed off. “Why? What would be the point?” His voice was soft but he sounded almost angry.

“This wouldn’t just be something that straps onto your back for show,” Bruce continued. “It would be a fully functional wing, even capable of flight. Howard completed multiple designs and tested different materials. All the specs are on the hard drive. Some are outdated but they could theoretically work.”

“Theoretically?” Steve asked skeptically.

“ _His_ could theoretically work. Mine on the other hand,” Tony boasted, “definitely will.”

“I don’t understand,” Bucky said, confused. “You’ve seen my back right? There’s nowhere to connect it. I don’t even think there’s a scar, let alone something to attach a prosthesis to.”

“JARVIS?” Bruce called. A projection of an upper body appeared in the middle of the room. “These are the skeletal, muscular, and nervous systems of a normal human male, and this—” the projection changed slightly, Bucky’s wing visible on the right side “—is you. You can see the shoulder blades are larger and more dense, not only to support the weight of the wing but to allow for all the muscles needed for flight. There are multiple protrusions here where the additional muscles are attached. Along here there’s an entire cluster of nerves specifically for the wing.” Bruce pointed to the different areas of the diagram. “Whatever destroyed your wing, didn’t destroy everything. There’s a whole support system here to work with, just the wing itself is gone. We should be able to surgically install a port with a neurolink and hook up a new wing. If everything goes as we expect it, you’ll have complete range of motion, and eventually, you’ll be able to fly.”

“Eventually?” Bucky asked.

“It will likely take some time to get used to everything, from the neural implant to the wing itself,” Bruce explained. “You’ll need to get used to basic movements first before anything more complicated that will bear your weight. A lot of testing will be involved, and the wing will likely take several rounds of calibration before it’s ready for flight.”

While Bruce talked, Steve mostly kept his eyes on Bucky, who stared intently at the diagram projected in the center of the room. His expression was curiously blank. Steve could only guess at what he might be thinking. Bucky had been awake for less than twenty-four hours, discovered he was seventy years in the future, and been suddenly bombarded with new faces, new technology, new everything. They’d already thrown so much at him, and he just seemed to take everything in stride. But despite Bucky’s outward calm, Steve was increasingly concerned about what could be going on inside.

“There were several designs.” Tony took over. “But this one—” the image changed again to display a complex-looking mechanical wing “—is the most recent and the most feasible. Also probably closest to what I would design myself, with a few upgrades. So we’ll probably go with this design.” Tony paused. “If this is something you want, at least. It will take time, so you can think on it while we figure some things out. First, we’ll have to bring in a few _real_ doctors”—Tony sent a meaningful glance at Natasha—“to help us with the neural port and everything that’s needed for installation. Plus, they’ll run whatever other tests they need to. Meanwhile, I can perfect the design, gather the materials, and actually build the structure.”

“Tony,” Steve said as he stepped away from the wall to examine the diagram more closely. “I don’t think you have to.”

“Have to what?”

“Build it. I’ve seen this before. It didn’t look quite like this. I think it was in pieces.”

“What? Where?”

“Down in the garage, where we found Bucky.”

*****

As soon as Steve had spoken, Tony had headed for the doors, yelling out for Clint, who followed along, though he grumbled quietly while he did. Steve had just looked at Bruce, who shrugged and said, “I guess we’ll discuss this more when he gets back.”

Now, Natasha and Bruce were talking quietly over by the computer. After Tony had left, Bucky had stood from his seat on the couch and moved to stand next to Steve, examining the projection of the wing still displayed in the middle of the room. He stood there still, staring silently at it. Steve turned to look at him, wanting the say something but he hesitated each time he opened his mouth.

“If you ask if I’m alright,” Bucky said before Steve could even open his mouth, “I may have to punch you.”

“I was actually going to ask how you were, but I guess that’s the same thing.”

Bucky just glared at him out of the corner of his eyes.

“It’s a valid question.”

Bucky huffed. “I’m fine, Steve. I really don’t know what to tell you beyond that.”

“I don’t know either,” Steve said. “I just know this is a lot. I didn’t handle waking up in the future well. I guess I just want to make sure you know that it’s okay if you need to punch something or leave the room screaming. I will completely understand.”

That at least earned him a smile and a small laugh. “I will admit, I have had the urge to do both of those things. But I told you, Stevie, I’ve been around for millennia. I’ve watched humans advance, I saw the direction you were going. None of this is really a surprise. I just skipped a few steps, but I’ll get it. It’s all kinda exciting.”

Steve smiled and turned back to examine the wing diagram. If this was close to the final design, it was going to look quite beautiful when Tony completed it, though Steve had a hard time imagining it actually attached to Bucky.

After a few more moments of silence, Bucky said softly, not looking at Steve, “I thought about what you said last night.”

“Oh?” Steve asked, looking at Bucky again. “Which part?”

“The part about this being a gift.” Bucky turned his head toward Steve, really looking at him this time. “I think you were right about that. I think— I think I all of this happened for a reason, and I just need to have a little faith and trust in that. You were right. You’re here, and I’m here, and that’s the only thing that matters. I can handle anything with you here.”

Steve didn’t know what to say to that, about how quickly Bucky seemed to have changed his mind and accepted all this craziness. It had been so difficult at first for Steve, waking up in the future without Bucky, without anyone he knew. Except Peggy, and even then she didn’t always know him. Sometimes visiting her was too hard, too much of a reminder of all he had lost.

Bucky… he just seemed to take everything in stride. But then, he likely had a lot more experience trusting in a higher power, having faith in the unknown. Steve had lost too much of that along the way.

Bucky nodded over to the other side of the room. “You had some help too though, with adjusting. Looks like you’re doing alright.”

Steve glanced over at Natasha, who was showing a smiling Bruce something on her phone. He’d put money on it being another picture of Clint passed out on his couch. “Yeah,” he smiled then turned back to Bucky. “I’ve had a lot of help.”

“They seem like good people. Howard’s kid, huh? He’s just like him.”

“Yeah,” Steve laughed. “But don’t tell him that.”

They stood silently next to each for a few moments until Steve worked up the courage to ask, “So, what do you think? About... this?” He waved his hand in front of him at the projection. “You were, uh, kinda quiet. Wasn’t sure what you were thinking.”

“I was thinking… I might as well go for it,” Bucky said. “What have I got to lose? This could all be part of the plan, part of why I’m still here. And you trust them, right?”

Steve stared across the room again. “With me life.”

“Then so do I.”

They stood quietly for a time before they eventually migrated over to Bruce and Natasha. Bucky was peppering Bruce with questions about the wing’s attachment and the exact medical procedures that would need to take place when the doors opened and Tony and Clint stepped through, hands full of pieces that might be wing-like if you put them all together, 

“This is what we could find,” Tony said laying the pieces out along one table and examining them carefully. “We’re definitely missing parts, but this will give me something to work with. The rest might be in some other boxes down there. We’ll go back and take a look later. Now, the main thing dear old dad was missing, besides a conscious guinea pig, was a quality power source, which I conveniently have already developed. I should be able to add a modified arc reactor near the base and finish the construction in a few weeks.” Tony looked up. “So, what did you accomplish while I was gone.”

“We looked through some pictures of Clint drooling on his couch and talked about getting lunch,” Natasha answered.

“Am I the only one who works around here?”

“We also talked about my trip down to the advanced prosthetics department earlier this morning,” Bruce said. “I talked with Dr. Elliott, and I think she and a few members of her team will be able to help us with this. Stark Industries has been working on this type of thing for awhile, at least as far as arm and leg prosthetics. Their knowledge, combined with the research Howard already compiled, should give us more than a head start on this. It means bringing a few extra people on board, but I think we can get moving on this fairly quickly.” He looked over at Bucky and then Steve. “Assuming, of course, that you’re okay with that.”

“Yeah,” Bucky replied confidently. “Yeah, let’s do it.”


	2. Part 2

**Part 2**

Even if Tony claimed he could finish building the wing in a few weeks, the process itself would take a little longer. Once the team of doctors was brought in and up to speed, and after they got over the whole one-winged-angel Sergeant Barnes thing, there were still some tests and research that needed to be done, not to mention the surgical procedures themselves. The neural port had to be redesigned to fit Bucky’s back, then grafted to his bone and connected to his nervous system. Even with his accelerated healing, which was at about the same level as Steve’s, not everything could be done at once.

It was even more frustrating for Bucky since he couldn’t leave the tower as he was, for many reasons. Even after everything was completed, they would need to figure out something. It was going to be hard to explain a man who should be dead casually walking around New York with wings.

Not that Bucky got bored—he had a lot to catch up on, and the other occupants of the tower made sure to keep him busy.

Clint and Bucky seemed to form an instant bond not only over their skills as marksmen, but also over television and food. They spent just as much time together in the gym and training room, bows or rifles in hand, as they did in Steve and Bucky’s apartment watching tv, mostly Food Network surprisingly.

Natasha would join them on occasion, but she could be found in their apartment on her own just as often, especially in the days after Bucky first woke up. She took measurements and discussed some designs for shirts, but also showed up one day with bags and bags of other necessities. Things Steve knew he should have gotten, but hadn’t made a priority. Bucky had seemed perfectly fine borrowing his things.

And of course Bucky had to spend a lot of time with Tony and Bruce, with or without their team of doctors, while they ran tests, took scans of his back, or asked his opinion on some small design elements for his new wing. He didn’t seem to mind, and they were perfectly happy to answer any questions he had about recent innovations in science, technology, and medicine. They also became his primary influences for new music.

In between all the time getting to know the other residents of the tower, Bucky and Steve easily fell back into a pattern of domesticity that was familiar and comfortable, even though things had changed a lot while they slept away the decades—changes not just in their accommodations and new technologies, but in Bucky, who was definitely closer to human now. He hadn’t needed to eat as an angel, but he definitely did as a human or whatever he was. Once Clint introduced him to the Food Network, it seemed that food had become Bucky’s new obsession. He started taking charge of preparing lunch and dinner almost everyday, though Steve still made breakfast each morning after his run. Another quirk of this new Bucky, once he started to adjust, he liked to sleep in.

Overall, Bucky took to this future amazingly well, far better than Steve had, but as he had explained, he’d watched human progress for millennia. Most of the new things were just fascinating for him, though Steve thought it might help that they offered so many ways for Bucky to distract himself from the weight missing from his left side.

Despite his outward optimism and insistence that he had faith in his unnamed higher power, Steve could still see the pain and frustration in Bucky’s eyes when he moved wrong, expecting two wings where there was only one. It usually happened in the training room or gym, but occasionally around the apartment, in the kitchen, especially if he moved too fast and didn’t compensate.

For a few weeks, things were relatively calm. Steve was happy to have Bucky back and was content just to be near him, whether they were doing something together like watching a new movie, or something separate simply in the same space. Steve loved nothing more than sitting at his kitchen table and watching Bucky cook, his wing pressed tightly to his back in the small space, long hair tied up in a messy bun. It was such a simple activity, but one Bucky had never taken joy in before. Now it seemed to calm him, give him focus.

Clint and Natasha would occasionally disappear for a while, called away on a mission for SHIELD. Steve was surprised, but not ungrateful, that he wasn’t called on to go with them, glad to spend as much time with Bucky as possible. He wondered if Natasha and Clint had a hand in his little vacation—they likely did—but he knew that if the situation was truly dire and he was needed, they would let him know. And of course he would drop everything to go.

Unfortunately, his break couldn’t last forever.

*****

Steve ended the brief call with Agent Hill and sighed. He had known this was coming, but that didn’t make it any easier. He took a deep breath and left his bedroom. Bucky was in the kitchen, as usual, though he was finished cooking, busy placing the dirty dishes in the washer.

Pausing in the doorway, Steve took a minute to admire Bucky and the striking picture he made, moving quickly around the kitchen, his wing pressed tightly against his back.

His hair was pulled up in a loose bun, a few strands falling out here and there as if he’d hastily tied it up before he started cleaning. Where he used to wear it loose before, he’d taken to wearing it in a bun or ponytail since waking. He wore loose black pants and a cream-colored shirt, comfortable clothes for lounging around the apartment.

Natasha had really come through with the shirts. She and Bucky had come up with a lot of different ideas for how to accommodate Bucky’s wing, then she just showed up one day carrying a bag filled with different shirts from who knows where. Steve figured it was probably better not to ask—and she was unlikely to answer. All of the shirts had slits in the back to allow the wings through and some way close them up once the shirt was on. Some had buttons, snaps, or clasps, which Bucky usually needed help to close, but others had velcro—functional and easy to manage without help—or some kind of ties or straps that Bucky wrapped around his waist. He was wearing one of the latter today, the ties crisscrossing his waist and ending with a small knot on one side.

Every time he saw Bucky like this—content, happy, emerged in so simple a task—Steve was filled with happiness and joy to be able to witness it, having Bucky back in his life, back from the dead, an unbelievable opportunity at a second chance. He didn’t dwell on those thoughts for long though as they brought forth feelings he needed to keep buried.

Steve took a deep breath before interrupting Bucky from his cleaning.

“So, I have to leave for a bit. On a mission for SHIELD,” he stated without preamble.

Bucky’s head turned sharply to look at him, his brow furrowed in confusion and concern. “You, what?”

“I have a mission, for my job with SHIELD. I had mentioned it before.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Bucky said. He grabbed the towel that from the counter next to him and turned his body fully to face Steve, leaning back against the counter and drying his hands. “I mean, I know you mentioned it. And Nat and Clint have been away a couple times. I just didn’t think… I don’t know. I thought you took some time off or something. They haven’t called you in. Is it— Is it just you? Or is everyone going Avenging with you?”

“Well, it’s for SHIELD, so not official Avengers business or anything. No Tony or Bruce. They just need me and Nat.”

“Oh,” Bucky looked down, but he nodded slightly. “Okay, good. You’ll have Natasha to watch your back then?”

“And a whole strike team, it’s not just us.”

One of the many reasons Steve had been dreading a call from SHIELD. Bucky had always been there to watch his back before, had Fallen specifically to do so, and now he had to watch Steve walk out the door, throw himself into danger, and not be there to help.

Steve stepped closer. He wanted to reach out and touch, his fingers ached for it. Aside from that first emotional day back, he and Bucky had kept their distance. It shouldn’t have been that strange. They’d never really had a reason to be particularly tactile, though there had always been a casual affection between them that came when you knew someone your entire life. Well, for Steve it had been almost his entire life, for Bucky it was just a small part of it really. Even so, there seemed to be a barrier up that keep them from reaching out for one another.

It was driving Steve mad not to have that, having Bucky back and feeling like he wasn’t able to touch, but at the very least it helped to keep him keep those feelings hidden, buried deep. 

He took a cautious step forward, and then another until he was right in front of Bucky, whose gaze was on the floor, expression blank, another thing that happened more and more. When he caught Bucky at just the right moment or surprised him, like he had a moment ago when he came in and announced he was leaving, those were the moments he could get a glimpse of what Bucky was really feeling. But too many times recently, his expression was guarded, like he was hiding something, holding something back.

“It’s just for a couple days, less than a week,” Steve spoke softly. “I’ll be back in time.”

Bucky looked up then, gazing straight into Steve’s eyes, expression still shuttered. “What?”

“For the surgery. I’ll be back in time for your surgery. I thought you might be worried about that.”

“Yeah, right.” Bucky shook his head and smiled slightly. “I know you will. And you’ll be careful, right? You’ll come back in one piece?”

“I’m always careful,” Steve said, smiling into Bucky’s blue-gray eyes.

“Are you forgetting who you’re talking to?” Bucky asked. “I know just how careful you used to be.”

Steve laughed softly. “Don’t worry. Nat keeps me in line.”

“I bet she does,” Bucky said, smiling though his eyes turned serious. “When do you leave?” 

“As soon as possible. Nat’s probably going to call me any—”

“Captain Rogers.” As if on cue, JARVIS interrupted. Steve resisted the urge to look up at the ceiling as if the AI was there somehow, but Bucky had automatically looked up at the sound of the new voice. A habit that took a long time for Steve to break, Bucky would probably still be doing so for quite some time. “Agent Romanoff has asked me to tell you to ‘make your goodbyes quick and get your ass to the garage.’”

They shared a look and laugh before Steve replied. “Thanks JARVIS. Tell her I’ll be there as soon as possible.”

Steve gazed at Bucky again, his lips curved into a soft smile. It was there, the perfect occasion to reach out and touch, something light like a hand on his arm, or an arm casually thrown over his shoulder, a one-armed hug. And he did nothing. He stood there, whispered softly, “I’ve gotta go,” and turned to get his gear from his room, leaving the apartment with only a quick glance toward the kitchen as the door closed behind him.

*****

The mission was quick and blessedly easy. No major issues and no injuries. The mission debrief, however, was unnecessarily long, and by the time he and Natasha were on their way back to the tower, it was late afternoon the day before Bucky’s first surgery, when the doctors planned to graft the neural port to his shoulder blade. They were optimistic that only two surgeries would be needed but couldn’t schedule the second procedure until the first had been performed and tested and until they knew how quickly Bucky healed. After the two surgeries, Tony could hook up the new wing, which he had almost completed, very easily in the lab.

As he rode the elevator up to their apartment, Steve thought about how it all seemed so quick. He had just gotten Bucky back. It felt like no time had passed since they’d found him and woken him up. And then they immediately jumped into talk about this new prosthesis, involving doctors and tests and surgeries. Steve hadn’t had a whole lot of time to process any of it. And no matter what Bucky said, how sure he was, Steve couldn’t bring himself to rely on the unknown. He just hoped Tony and Bruce could pull this off. Bucky deserved more than this purgatory between angel and human.

He couldn’t really tell how Bucky was holding up. Steve wanted to believe him when he said he had faith that everything would work out, and most of the time he seemed fine and things were normal, but there were these moments when Bucky seemed to get quiet and sort of withdraw from whatever was going on around him. Steve could find no pattern, no cause for the sudden change. He just had to assume it was the impending surgery and everything that went with it.

When Steve stepped out of the elevator, he was just about smacked in the face by the smell on the floor. Many smells, mouth-watering and comforting, he couldn’t pick them apart—the yeasty smell of fresh-baked bread, over the sweet smell of chocolate-chip cookies, and the tangy odor of fruit. There were too many.

Their floor had never smelled like this, and when he opened the door to their apartment he could tell why. Baked goods covered the kitchen table, and apparently overflowed onto the coffee table once that had become full. There had to be several dozen cookies laid out in neat rows, two trays of dinner rolls, half a dozen loaves of crusty-looking bread, and at least three pies filled with different kinds of fruit.

Steve hadn’t even been gone four days and apparently Bucky had opened a bakery.

This was new.

When Bucky appeared from the kitchen, another steaming pie held gently in his oven-mitt-clad hands, he jumped slightly when he noticed Steve. He set the pie down with the others and turned an apologetic expression toward Steve.

“Hey,” he said, removing the oven mitts. “Sorry, I didn’t hear you come in. How was the mission?” 

“Fine. How was the… What is all this?”

“Clint says I’m a stress-baker?”

“I didn’t know you were a _baker_ -baker.” 

“It’s new,” Bucky said, looking around the room, sheepish. “Kinda helped me relax. Not think about… things. I think I went a bit overboard.”

Steve smiled softly. So maybe Bucky _was_ stressed out about his surgery the next day, more than he let on when Steve was actually around, and that, combined with Steve being gone on a mission, had lead to this new hobby. “Yeah, probably a bit, but with good reason. Hey, I made it back in time though, just like I promised, and in one piece.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” Bucky replied, giving him a long once-over. “Don’t think I’m not going to check in with Nat, see if you were _careful_.”

“I was!” Steve exclaimed, laughing. “I swear. And she _will_ back me up.”

“This time.”

“Well, maybe next time we find a way for you to de-stress in a way that doesn’t involve making enough food to feed the whole tower.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Bucky said, looking down at the baked goods scattered around the room. “I _really_ went overboard, didn’t I?”

“Maybe if Thor were here,” Steve said absently, glancing around. “This is a lot of baked goods. I can’t wait to try some of everything, but what are we going to do with the rest... Wait, sorry, that was a dumb question. Clint.”

“I’m still sad I didn’t get to meet him.”

“Clint?” Steve asked, glancing at Bucky, confused.

“No,” Bucky chuckled. “ _Thor_. And this isn’t everything. Clint already came and took a bunch of stuff down to his apartment, after he stuffed his face first.”

“Are you kidding me, Buck?” Steve laughed. “Keep this up, and we’re all going to gain about a hundred pounds. Each.”

“Come on,” Bucky said through his laughter and headed back into the kitchen. “Come have some cookies and tell me how the mission went.”

Steve sat down at the kitchen table and told Bucky what he could about the mission, though there really wasn’t much to tell. He also ate about a dozen and a half cookies while he did so and while Bucky made dinner in the background, still listening intently to Steve’s story. A dinner Steve somehow still managed to eat on top of the cookies, though he thought he might burst after.

While Bucky cleaned up the kitchen, attempting to find places to store his new bakery, Steve went to shower. The baked goods were all put away when he came back—he wasn’t sure where, but he was afraid if he opened the cabinets, cookies would rain down on him—and Bucky was standing by the television scrolling through Netflix.

“You want to watch a movie tonight?” Bucky asked.

“Yeah, you pick. I think the debrief fried my brain.”

Steve headed over to the large couch across from the television and sat in what had become his side, settling into the corner and laying his left arm on the armrest. The small table on this end held his sketchbook and pencils and a few other items of his, while the one on the other end had quickly filled with items of Bucky’s. Steve was surprised though, when Bucky picked a movie and sat down right in the center of the couch, legs tucked under him, wing curled into his other side.

“Have you seen this one?” Bucky asked, looking at the screen. “It says that you have, but I know Clint and Natasha sometimes watch things up here.”

“Uh...” Steve looked quickly at the screen then back at Bucky. “No. I haven’t seen it yet.”

Bucky hadn’t even glanced at him, so Steve finally turned his head toward the TV to focus on the movie. It was some action movie that Tony had recommended, but it did very little to hold Steve’s attention. Though he wasn’t sure if that was because of the movie itself or because Bucky was sitting so close to him. It couldn’t really be possible, but he swore that he could feel the warmth from Bucky’s arm so close to his but not quite touching.

As Bucky relaxed back into the couch cushions, he ended up leaning slightly toward Steve, his wing stretched out a bit on the other side. All Steve could think about was how easy it would be to wrap his arm around Bucky’s shoulder and pull him close, tucking him tight against his side.

Eventually, he forced himself to relax and watch the movie. About halfway through it though, the last few days and the mission caught up with him and that, along with Bucky’s comforting presence nearby, had Steve drifting, his eyes closing shut. He settled deeper into the couch and fell asleep.

*****

The first surgery was long—it was a pretty complicated procedure after all—but Bucky’s recovery and healing time were quick. Steve couldn’t be in the room during, so it was a long and stressful day for him. He knew Bucky would be fine but just hoped everything went smoothly and there were no complications. There was a lot depending on this going well, he wanted, needed Bucky to feel whole and happy again. He was adjusting to this future nicely, but Steve knew he felt incomplete. This had to work. They both trusted Tony, Bruce, and the team of doctors to make it work.

Bucky healed quickly though, he only spent about two days after the surgery under observation before they let him come back to the apartment. Where Steve was not above mother-henning him to death.

“I’m not an invalid, Steve,” Bucky complained from his place on the couch, television tuned to one of his favorite cooking shows. “It’s fine and healed. I’m not going sit here and watch you ruin what could have been a really good meal.”

“You had surgery barely three days ago, I don’t care. And I’ve been feeding myself for months, you know,” Steve countered from the kitchen where he was chopping some vegetables for lunch. Or trying to. The pieces were even enough anyway. “I’m a perfectly capable cook.”

“You’re a disaster and I can’t take it anymore.” Bucky stood and came into the kitchen, right up to Steve. “Out. Sit at the table and supervise or something, but get out of my kitchen.”

Steve huffed. “ _Your_ kitchen. It was my kitchen first, you know.” He sat at his usual spot at the kitchen table and watched Bucky take over with a look of disgust on his face as he surveyed the mangled vegetables. Not his faults, onions were hard to dice.

“And you didn’t treat her right, so she’s mine now.”

It probably would have tasted alright, just not looked very pretty. Whatever Bucky made would taste amazing and look eloquent though. Well, most of the time. Sometimes he liked to experiment, and things got… weird.

Steve sat back and watched Bucky cook, a favorite pastime for both of them, but Steve’s gaze was a bit more intense than normal, focused on Bucky’s back and arm looking for any signs of pain or discomfort. Nothing would’ve seemed off to a casual observer, but Steve watched Bucky cook every day, so he could tell that he wasn’t as relaxed as usual, he was stiff and tense, and his left arm would occasionally twitch or shake slightly.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Steve asked. He carried on quickly before Bucky could give an angry retort. “You look stiff, is all. You’re usually not so tense when you cook.”

Bucky sighed softly. “I’m fine, just adjusting. I’m not in pain or anything, if that’s what you’re worried about, it’s just a little weird to have this—this thing on my back. I guess my muscles are all tense, I can’t seem to relax. And they screwed with my nerves, you know. So there are some weird twinges.”

“They said that’ll go away in a few days though.” Steve had been there for at least part of the doctor’s instructions when they let Bucky leave.

“Yeah, I know. Still feels weird.”

“Would, um…” Steve started, unsure how weird it might sound, or if Bucky would be receptive to the offer. “Would a backrub help, maybe, uh, massaging your shoulders? Should help with the tension, right?”

Bucky stiffened slightly, and Steve sort of hoped it was just from the implant and not because of his suggestion.

“I…” Bucky started, then trailed off. He turned to look over his shoulder at Steve. “If you don’t mind,” he said, softly. “That’d be great.”

“Sure, Buck. After lunch?”

Bucky nodded and went back to cooking, and Steve went back to quietly watching. The silence in the kitchen seemed normal and companionable, but Steve felt a level of tension and anticipation underneath it.

They ate lunch quietly, innocuous small talk and banter like always. Steve did make Bucky sit back down on the couch while he cleaned up, but that wasn’t really a hard sell. Bucky might be demanding about food, but he was always willing to let Steve clean up after him.

“You still offering that backrub?” Bucky said with a small smile from his seat on the couch. 

“Yeah. Yeah, absolutely. How do you want to do this?”

“Um,” Bucky looked around a bit at the furniture in their living room. There weren’t a whole lot of options that would accommodate both Steve and Bucky’s wing, something that would only get more difficult when he had two again. The large couch and the coffee table, and the recliner and ottoman that only Clint really used. “I can sit on the ottoman? And you in the chair?”

“That’ll work.”

Steve sat down in the recliner. When Bucky didn’t immediately move toward him, Steve looked up to see him unwinding the ties of his shirt from around his waist and pulling it over his head. Steve’s mouth went dry, his eyes wide. It was obvious now, couldn’t really give a good massage through clothing, but he hadn’t really realized when he’d offered. That he would have his hands on Bucky’s skin.

Bucky tossed his short on the coffee table and plopped down on the ottoman, his wing spread out just a bit and off to the side. He sat as far back as he could, and Steve leaned forward, within easy reach.

On the left side of Bucky’s back, just at the shoulder blade, there was now a metal port, just a small dock near his spine, though it was capped off. This first surgery had mostly been to graft the metal neural port to Bucky’s shoulder blade. They hadn’t attached any kind of connectors in place yet, but they did prepare the correct nerves for the later procedure. The skin around the metal part was smooth and healed. The doctor’s thought his healing time was even faster than Steve’s, though it was hard to tell.

Steve reached his hands out toward Bucky’s back, anxious to touch, needing to touch, but hesitating.

“I’m just going to try to loosen the muscles in your neck and shoulders. You’ll tell me if anything hurts?” It was a question, but also an order. The last thing Steve wanted to do was hurt Bucky in any way.

“Absolutely,” Bucky said, and he let his head fall forward and dropped his shoulders, trying to relax though his muscles still look knotted and tense. “Go for it.”

Steve finally let his hands touch Bucky’s warm skin as he kneaded his fingertips into Bucky’s shoulder, loosening the knots and trying to relieve the tension and the stress that Bucky was holding in.

At first Bucky was quiet, though he would gasp and tense again has Steve worked through a particularly tough spot, but as he relaxed more, he started to hum quietly and let out a few low moans as Steve continued lower to work the muscles around his shoulder blade.

As soon as Steve had offered the massage, he wanted to take it back. As much as he wanted to touch, Steve was afraid of revealing what he kept hidden, and the soft, sweet noises Bucky was making did nothing to help him hide the fact that he was completely, hopelessly in love with Bucky.

It wasn’t anything new. Steve had been aware of his feelings for Bucky since he was sixteen, when he realized not only that he was deeply in love with his best friend but that he had no hope of his feelings ever being returned. Bucky was an angel, _his_ angel. What worse sin was there than to lust after your guardian angel?

And with the realization came the knowledge that what he felt was something he would never get over—he’d always love Bucky and nothing would change that. He would just have to learn to live with wanting something he couldn’t have. So Steve had years of practice hiding these feelings. But the suddenness of having Bucky back, all the emotion of losing him than finding him again, was making those feelings harder to hide. He needed to touch, to feel, to be reassured that Bucky was here and alive, his feelings bubbling to the surface, ready to boil over.

Steve worked silently, trying to focus on his hands gliding over Bucky’s skin and not on the soft noises of pleasure he made.

“Please excuse the interruption, Captain Rogers, Sergeant Barnes.”

Steve almost jumped back, hastily removing his hands from Bucky, as JARVIS’s voice filled the apartment.

“JARVIS,” Steve said, trying to keep his voice steady, his heart pounding loudly in his ears. “No, uh, you’re not interrupting anything. What do you need?”

“Sir has asked if you can meet him in the lab.”

“Yeah, we’ll be right there,” Bucky said standing up quickly. “Thanks, JARVIS.” He rolled his shoulders slightly back, then let his head drop rolled his neck from side to side, before he turned and looked at Steve, smiling. “Thanks, Stevie.”

Steve swallowed quickly and answered with a small smile and a soft, “Anytime.” Then he stood up and made his way toward the door, calling back, “Let’s go see what Tony wants this time.”

When they got to the lab, Tony was tinkering with something on one of his work tables but dropped everything to greet them.

“There you are! I’m glad you weren’t busy. I have something to show you.” He gestured to one side of the room, where something draped in a dirty, slightly gray cloth was leaning against the wall. He moved it a bit closer to them before lifting the cloth off with a flourish and a cloud of questionable dust. “Ta da!”

Steve had already guessed at what was hidden under that sheet, but it was still an impressive sight. Seeing Bucky’s wing in pieces hadn’t really given a good impression of the end design or how big it would be—though obviously it would need to be the same size as his current wing. It was gleaming, black and metal, a little threatening just looking at it. It would probably look quite impressive once attached and moving. Some of the interlocking pieces seemed to mimic feathers, but the overall feel of it was almost reminiscent of a bat.

Steve looked over at Bucky, who was staring at it almost in awe, hand raised like he wanted to touch but wasn’t sure if he was allowed.

“Well? What do you think?” Tony asked, looking at them expectantly. “It’s all done, functional, power source added and ready to be installed. You can touch it if you want.” He said the last nodding at Bucky’s raised hand. “Can’t hurt it. And if you somehow manage to, I can fix it. Here”—he leaned the whole piece over toward Bucky—“it’s a little awkward to hold, but I think you can manage it.”

Bucky took hold of it and tentatively, almost reverently, ran his fingers along the separate metal blades. “It’s beautiful, Tony. Thank you.”

“Don't thank me yet, not until we get it installed and know it works. Which it will, of course. I made it. But let’s save the accolades.”

“Thanks, Tony,” Steve said, watching Bucky lovingly admire the wing. “It’s… really impressive.”

“So, I conferred with the good doctor this morning,” Tony said spinning around and back to whatever he’d been working on before. “She’s quite pleased with your rate of recovery. Now they still have to run a few tests, but assuming everything goes as it should, they can schedule the other procedure in the next few weeks, get this bad boy installed in a month or so, I’d say.”

“Really?” Bucky asked, head swinging in Tony’s direction. Steve could see the excitement flashing hesitantly in his eyes. “That quick?”

“I don’t see why not. It depends on you, too, though. You have to be completely honest with how you’re holding up. If there’s any pain, discomfort, if something doesn’t feel right or isn’t working, you let us know and we’ll slow things down. Once we get it installed, we’ll give you some time to get used to it, practice simple movement and work up to testing actual flight. Does that work?”

“It sounds perfect,” Bucky said sincerely. “I seriously can’t thank you enough.”

“Hey now, what did I say about the gratitude? Now, spend some time getting to know her if you want. I’ll just be over here, working away.”

Tony went back to his other project again. Leaving them to marvel some more at the exquisite piece Tony had put together. Steve hung back for the most part and watched Bucky as he examined seemingly every inch of the thing before he finally put it down, thanked Tony again, and said they could head back to the apartment.

As they left the lab, Bucky looked over at him and asked, “So, what did you think?”

“It’s really impressive. But, I mean, it’s Tony. If anyone could do it, it was him,” Steve said, watching Bucky as the walked back. “What about you, how do you feel about everything Tony said?”

“I will admit, when all this started I kinda just went along with it. Even though I tried to tell myself it would all work out, part of me wasn’t sure it’d really happen, but now…” Bucky shrugged and shook his, laughing softly. “You guys have really gotten my hopes up that this might actually work.”

“It will,” Steve said with a confidence, but a thread of apprehension was working its way through his mind as he thought about Bucky and that shining metal work. It would work, Tony and Bruce and Dr. Elliott and her team of doctors would make sure of it. Bucky would once again have two functional wings, and Steve couldn't help but find that both profoundly joyous and utterly terrifying.

*****

Things did go exactly as Tony had said. After some testing, Dr. Elliott deemed the first surgery a complete success and planned the second as soon as she was able. Bucky’s weird nerve twitches went away in a few days, as promised, but he continued to be stiff and a bit tense for a while, just due to the strange feeling of the implant itself, newly grafted to his shoulder blade. It became a nightly ritual for Steve to sit in the recliner with Bucky in the ottoman in front of him relaxing under the gentle motions of Steve’s strong hands.

Steve reveled in this torturous new way he could touch Bucky, but with the regularity of this intimate contact, a lot of the distance that seemed to be between them began to ease up, and Steve found himself doubling his efforts to keep his feelings for Bucky locked away.

Bucky was more free with small touches, touching Steve’s shoulder or back when they were in the kitchen together, sitting closer to him on the couch, leaning into him while he laughed at something on the television. Steve was more than happy to go along with it and reciprocate those small gestures. It felt so natural between them, but he was constantly afraid that he would go too far and show that he felt more, needed more from Bucky.

Steve had to leave on several missions as the weeks went on, and each time he came home to the delicious smells of Bucky’s baking filling their apartment. He baked at other times too, but he always went overboard when Steve was on a mission. Steve knew a lot of it was fueled by Bucky’s concern for him, likely furthered by boredom since usually Clint or Natasha went with him, sometimes both.

The worst was when Steve and Natasha were called away the night before Bucky’s second surgery. Bucky understood, but Steve knew that he would be tense and worried through the whole procedure. It was especially evident when Steve got back a few days later. Bucky’s back muscles were all in knots and Steve spent extra long smoothing them all out again.

A few weeks after the second surgery, once Dr. Elliott and her team had run all the tests they could to make sure that neural port had been implanted successfully, they were scheduled to meet everyone in Tony’s lab to attach the wing.

The night before the last procedure, Steve and Bucky were relaxing on the couch in their new usual spots, scrolling through Netflix to find a new movie.

Bucky had been uncharacteristically quiet most of the day. Steve had seen him alternating between worry and excitement all day, but underneath there seem to be other emotions he was hiding, something else on his mind. Steve didn’t want to press, but he hoped Bucky would bring them up in his own time.

Though when he finally did, Steve’s own fears came rushing to the fore.

“Hey, Steve?” Bucky asked, his voice slightly hesitant. “Can I talk to you about something?”

Steve was in charge of the selection this evening, but he set the remote on the coffee table and shifted on the couch to face Bucky.

“Sure, Buck. What’s on your mind?”

“Have you…” He started and trailed off, pausing as if searching for the right words. His was facing away from Steve, eyes fixed on the coffee table in front of them, loose hair hiding most of his face. “Have you thought about what’s going to happen once all this is over, once the wing is attached and I— and I’m whole again.”

Steve froze, not wanting to continue the conversation, but knowing he had to. “I have,” Steve replied softly, eyes on what he could see of Bucky’s face. “Have you?”

“Yeah,” Bucky replied. He looked up at Steve and opened his mouth to continue, but Steve cut him off.

“I know,” Steve said. “I know what you want, and I know it makes sense, but can we— can we not talk about it yet? There’s still time.”

Bucky closed his mouth and gave Steve’s face a searching look. “You know what I want,” he said cautiously, “and you’re okay with it?”

“I am,” Steve lied. He wasn’t okay with it, but he would have to be. “And I’m sorry, I just— we’ll talk about it when the time comes. We’ll make it happen, but let’s just watch a movie, relax before tomorrow, okay?”

Bucky looked unconvinced, but he relented, turning back to the television and Netflix. “Okay. For now.”

Steve breathed a sigh a sigh of relief and picked the remote up again. “And Bucky?” Steve started, waiting for Bucky to look back at him. “Even if you only have one wing, you’re still whole.”

*****

In the morning, they ate breakfast quickly and prepared to make their way to Tony’s lab. During all the other testing and procedures, Bucky had a sort of forced calm about him, anxious but determined. This morning, however, Steve could see his was still nervous but also nearly giddy with excitement and trying very hard not to show it.

“Are you ready?” Bucky asked, as Steve finished stowing the last of the dishes in the washer. “It’s almost ten.”

“It’s nine thirty,” Steve said, laughing quietly. “What’s the rush?”

“Just, you know, don’t want to be late is all,” Bucky said sheepishly, not willing to admit how excited he was.

“It’ll take us two seconds to get to Tony’s lab, and we can’t start until Dr. Elliott gets there.”

“Well, let’s go up now anyway. We can hang out with Tony and Bruce. And Nat and Clint.” Who would no doubt be there though not officially invited or needed. Well, except for moral support.

“You mean, let’s go up so you can lovingly caress your new wing for half an hour? Sure, let’s do it.”

“Shut up.”

Bucky was vibrating with such energy on the way up, Steve thought he might shake right out of his skin, but he made it there intact and immediately went over to his wing once they entered the lab, completely ignoring everyone present. Which was everyone except Dr. Elliott.

“Well, good morning to you too,” Tony called after Bucky as he rushed past.

“Good morning,” Bucky said as reached out to touch his wing—definitely not a caress, nope—and Steve couldn’t be one hundred percent sure the salutation hadn’t been addressed to it and not Tony.

The rest of them just shook their heads and laughed, ignoring Bucky while the chatted quietly and drank the coffee Natasha had brought up from the Starbucks down in the lobby.

When Dr. Elliott arrived shortly after ten, they began. She was really only there to monitor the situation while Tony performed the actual installation.

“Alright,” Tony began, “Sergeant, I need you to stand here”—he gestured to the center of the room—“and Cap, if you could retrieve the wing. It’s light, but kind of awkward to hold, so you might be the best candidate to hold it in place while I get everything attached.”

Steve lifted the wing from where it was leaning against the wall. Tony was right, it was much lighter than expected, and very familiar in feel. It dawned on him than that he never bothered to ask what it was made of, but it would have to be extremely light, so what he suspected was probably correct.

“Tony, what’s this made of?” He asked, bringing it closer to them in the center of the room.

“You can’t guess?” Tony said. He was behind Bucky, fiddling with something in the neural implant. Steve could see Bucky’s muscles involuntarily twitch every so often.

“So it is vibranium. I didn’t think you could get it anymore.”

“You can’t. But apparently Dad managed to get some more, and I really don’t want to know how. It’s not completely made of vibranium, but some parts are reinforced with it to strengthen the metal.” He looked up from Bucky’s back. “Bring it here.”

Steve stepped closer and let Tony guide the wing to where he needed it to be. The others stood off to the side near Dr. Elliott who was closely checking a nearby screen. Steve couldn’t see it, but it likely displayed Bucky’s vitals, which JARVIS would be monitoring.

“Okay, I’m going to plug the wing into the neural port in a just a moment,” Tony explained. “That’s probably going to feel weird, but not as weird as when I actually turn on the power source. Just try to relax.”

“I will do my best,” Bucky replied.

“Ready?”

“Absolutely.”

Steve watched Tony connect the wing and plug it in place in the neural port. Once it was locked in, Steve stepped back to give him room as Bucky rolled his shoulders and shook out his arms a bit.

“Weird, right?” Tony said. “Connecting the reactor now.”

Whatever Tony did, it had Bucky gasping and arching his back like a lightning strike down his spine, head thrown back.

“Bucky?” Steve called reaching out but stopping before he actually touched Bucky, at the same time Tony asked, “You alright?”

“Yeah,” Bucky said, through clenched teeth, his voice strained. “Yeah, I’m alright. Weird does not even begin to describe it.”

“Give it a second, try to relax,” Tony instructed in a surprisingly soothing way.

“Easier said than done.”

“How’s he doing, Doc?” Tony called.

“Everything is well within normal range. Nothing to worry about,” Dr. Elliott replied calmly.

“Excellent.”

Steve could see Bucky beginning to relax, his shoulders lowering, though his muscles still twitched in places. He stepped closer and moved around in front of Bucky so he could see his face. His eyes were closed, and his face was pulled tight, but he was taking deep and steady breaths as he adjusted to the foreign tech now attached to his body.

“Let me know if you need anything, okay?” Steve said softly.

“A massage as soon as we don’t have an audience,” Bucky said. His voice still sounded strained, but less than it had originally.

Steve laughed softly and said, “You got it.”

Bucky continued to take deep breaths and relax little by little until he seemed almost normal again. He opened his eyes with one last deep breath and said, “Okay, I’m good.”

“You sure?” Tony asked, stepping around to look him in the eye. “How does it feel? Any pain? Discomfort?”

“Well it definitely ain’t comfortable, at least not yet, but it’s getting better. No pain, but I can’t really describe it. Just feels… weird. Really, really weird.”

“I’ll take weird. Do you think you can move it? Wanna give it try?”

Bucky got quiet and his eyes sort of went unfocused before he just closed them altogether. After a minute he asked, “Anything?”

“Not a millimeter,” Tony replied. “It might take awhile to get used to. So don’t be worried if you can’t do anything yet. We’re going to start with very small movements anyway, before we move onto the bigger stuff.”

“Try moving both wings at once,” Steve suggested. “It might feel more natural.”

“True,” Tony agreed. “Give it a shot.”

“Okay,” Bucky closed his eyes and tried to relax more. At first, only his right wing moved, unfurling slightly, spreading wide, but the left was just a second behind, spreading out in a similar fashion, matching the feathered side. Bucky’s mouth opened with a small sound of surprise. “It moved, right? I can feel it moved.” He finally opened his eyes and turned his head to look at the left wing.

When he saw it had moved, Bucky turned to shine the most brilliant smile at Steve, who had no choice but to return it tenfold, pushing away the fear that settled into the back of his mind.


	3. Part 3

**Part 3**

Per the doctor’s orders—Tony’s orders, but still—Bucky spent the next several weeks working on small movements of his wing, moving on to larger ones once he felt more comfortable. Sometimes he would be alone or with just Steve in their apartment practicing movement while he did other things, and sometimes he worked with the others during sessions in the gym or training room. Steve gradually got used to seeing Bucky with two wings again. And also rearranging most of the apartment. Things got knocked over at first.

Once the movement of his left wing felt more like second nature, like it was the wing he’d been born with, they worked out some different ways to test the wing in flight and scheduled a time to train under Tony’s supervision. He said that movement was a good sign, but some calibration might be needed for actual flight.

On the first morning of flight testing, they woke and went about their usual morning routine. Bucky sleeping until nine, while Steve got up, went for a run, showered, and made breakfast.

Steve had woken this morning shaking, anxious. He hoped a run would help burn off some of the emotion, help him relax and forget for a time, but so many scenarios cycled through his head as he went travelled through the nearly empty paths of Central Park. The excitement and joy were there —though a sliver of anxiety ran through them, a slight worry that all this was for nothing and Bucky would never believe he was whole. Steve trusted Tony though, and he seemed completely sure that everything would work out.

So did Bucky, but Steve knew doubt still lingered under the surface.

For Steve, it was the fear he was trying to outrun this morning, a dark shadow over the happiness, a despair that everything around them would come crashing down. With the days for practice were over, flight was become a reality, and every time Steve imagined Bucky happy and flying, the image was immediately eclipsed by a painful vision of Bucky falling from the train. It wasn’t the same, but there were so many what ifs.

During breakfast—a silent event that was somehow tense and electric at the same time—Steve covertly kept his eyes on Bucky, who seemed outwardly calm and untroubled. His metal wing a matched his flesh and feather wing well, but today the black seemed dark, somber, reflecting Steve’s worried thoughts. 

Steve stacked their plates in the sink and paused, back to Bucky taking in a few deep breaths before finally turning around. “You ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” Bucky replied. “Let’s get it over with, huh?”

The elevator ride to the lab, where Tony would run an initial calibration before they moved on to the training room, was too short for Steve, who was having a hard time controlling his racing thoughts.

“Hey, are you alright?” Bucky asked, placing a hand on Steve’s bicep to stop him just before they reached the door.

“Yeah, of course,” Steve replied.

Bucky turned and leveled Steve with a searching look. He stepped closer, right up into Steve’s space, inches apart, and looked him in the eye. His hand, still gently gripping Steve’s bicep, started to rub soothingly up and down Steve’s arm. “There’s nothing to worry about, Stevie. Today? It’s still just little things, a few little tests to get the wing calibrated, troubleshoot any problems. It’s not like I’m going to jump off the tower. I’m right here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

“I know,” Steve replied quietly, than a little louder and with more confidence. “I know.”

“Your head knows, but you can’t always tell your heart to listen. I know you’re worried. I’m worried too. I’m really worried that everything went wrong, that something got fucked up along the way, and this is all for nothing. But it might not be, and we won’t know until we get in there and figure it out. And Steve, I can’t do that without you.”

Steve looked up into Bucky’s eyes and finally saw the worry and doubt. He straightened up, reached out to give Bucky’s shoulder a quick squeeze.

“You know I’m with you. Anything you need, I’ll be here.”

“Good, that’s all I need.” Bucky smiled at him. “Alright. Let’s get this over with.”

They entered the lab to find Tony and Natasha waiting for them. No Clint, surprisingly. Or Bruce, but he had likely gone downstairs to retrieve Dr. Elliott, who would again be present to monitor Bucky’s vitals in case something went wrong. 

“There you are,” Tony said as they approached. “What kept you? I was about to have JARVIS summon you. Aren’t most people your age up at the crack of dawn?”

“Not really ninety, Tony,” Steve said. “And you told us ten thirty. If anything, we’re early. Bruce off getting Dr. Elliott?” 

“Yup. And Barton will be back any second with coffee.”

Right on cue, the door opened again and Clint stepped in holding two trays of coffee. “Caffeine is here!” He set them down on the nearest table.

Natasha walking over to him and selected a cup from one of the trays. “Oh, good, you saved us some. I know how long that elevator ride gets.”

“Hey, I only did that once,” Clint complained. “And I was having a rough day.”

“Haven’t fallen off any buildings today, then?” Steve asked. He took two cups at random and handed one to Bucky.

“Not yet, but it’s still early.”

The light banter continued for a bit as they sipped their coffee and waited for Bruce to return with the doctor. Steve tried his best to join in, but he was anxious to get started with the tests. He could sense Bucky was feeling the same. Tony took the time to examine the wing and the neural port. Again. As if he hadn’t been doing so regularly for the last several weeks.

“Excuse me, sir,” JARVIS interrupted.

“What is it, JARVIS?” Tony didn’t look up from where he was fiddling with the wing’s neural port. Bucky grimaced slightly and his shoulder and arm gave an involuntary twitch.

“I have an urgent request from SHIELD. Agent Hill is in immediate need of Captain Rogers, and Agents Romanoff and Barton.”

Steve glanced over at Natasha and Clint. “We’ll head to conference room, JARVIS, and you can put her through there.”

“Just put her through here,” Tony called, guiding Bucky away from the center of the room. “We’ll stay out of sight.”

Steve, Natasha, and Clint arranged themselves in front of the large screen near the center of the lab, while Tony and Bucky settled off to one side.

“Alright, JARVIS,” Steve called. “Go ahead.”

Maria Hill appeared on the screen, dressed in tac gear and obviously in transit. 

“Good morning, Agent Hill,” Steve said. “What can we do for you?”

“Captain, Agents.” She nodded at each of them. Noise and static in the background made her somewhat hard to understand at first, but JARVIS quickly filtered out the noise, and her voice came through strong and clear. “I’m afraid we have an emergency situation near you that requires your skills. We have a hostage situation at an advanced science research facility in Harlem. Early this morning, a group of attackers attempted to take an unknown research item from the building, but there are security protocols in place and they can no longer reach what they’re after. We have reports of between five and seven armed man holding about ten researchers hostage in one of the labs. The lab is locked down and the rest of the building is currently being evacuated.”

“You don’t know what they were after?” Steve asked.

“I don’t know exactly, but that part of the building does R&D on biological nanotechnology. At this time, I need you and Agent Romanoff to enter the building and secure the hostages. The lab is on one of the upper floors. Agent Barton, I need you stationed on the roof of a nearby building. I’m in transit now, but don’t wait for me. There are a few SHIELD agents on site who are cooperating with NYPD. I’m trying to get you another sniper, but it might be some time before I locate someone.”

“You have another sniper,” Bucky called from the side of the room.

“What?” Steve said, gaping in shock at Bucky. Tony had a similar expression and slowly backed away from Bucky, hands raised in a gesture that clearly said he was not involved in this conversation. “No. Absolutely not.”

“Who is that?” Maria asked. “Who else is there?”

“What do mean ‘no’?” Bucky said approaching Steve, but still staying outside the view of the screen. “You need a sniper. And, oh look, I’m a sniper.”

“You’re not—” Steve hesitated, not wanting to say the wrong thing, but there was no he was putting Bucky in danger like this, not this soon. “You’re not part of SHIELD, and this is a SHIELD mission. You haven’t even left the building since you woke up. Is this really what you want for your first trip out?”

“Watching your back, preventing you from doing something stupid? Hell yes, it is.” He sounded angrier and was closing in on Steve.

“Captain Rogers,” Maria tried to interrupt again, her voice slightly confused.

“I can manage just fine on my own,” Steve said, though he voice was raising in volume. “I won’t even _be_ alone. I’ll have Natasha and Clint.”

“You need someone else!” Bucky yelled. “You knew this was what I wanted, and you said you were with it.”

“Well, I’m not ready,” Steve said, turning away. “ _You’re_ not ready. Your wing hasn’t even been tested yet.”

“I’m not flying anywhere, I’m just shooting people!” 

“Will someone please tell me what the hell is going on,” Maria finally snapped over the argument. Her eyes were wide and confused, and Steve realized Bucky had stepped fully in front of the screen at some point during their shouting match. “Just shut up and explain yourselves, we don’t have time to deal with this.”

“This is Bucky,” Clint said simply. “We found him in the basement.”

“You might know him better as Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes,” Natasha added.

“Oh, and he’s an angel,” Clint finished.

“I can see that,” Maria said, eyes focused on Bucky and his mismatched wings. “Sergeant Barnes, you said? Like…”

“Like Cap’s childhood friend. Though that’s all a really long story. We’ll explain it later.”

“He’s an excellent shot, you know,” Natasha said. “Clint can vouch for him. Oh, and his kill count from World War II.”

“Natasha,” Steve said sharply, a warning in his voice.

“He really is,” Clint added. “We’ve been training together. He could definitely help us out.”

“I don’t—” Maria started. “I don’t know if…”

“How ‘bout if I just show up regardless of what Steve and SHIELD think? And you can’t stop me.”

“I’ll… I’ll—” Steve fumbled for something to say. “I’ll get JARVIS to keep you in the building!”

“Please do not involve me or my AI in this mess,” Tony said, exasperated.

“Shut up!” Maria snapped again. “You’re wasting time. Barnes, you’re in. Rogers, don’t you dare open your mouth to argue with me. Get your gear and get your asses to Harlem. Mission brief has been sent to your phones. Someone share nicely with Barnes. Hill out.”

As soon as the screen want blank, Steve turned and headed for the door. “Meet me in the garage in fifteen,” he said, not looking at the others as he headed out the door.

Steve was already in his room and changing into his suit when he heard Bucky come back to their apartment and head for his room. He changed quickly, grabbed his shield and bag, and headed out to the living room to wait. He had no idea what Bucky was going to wear, and at this point he couldn’t care less. Bucky had no right to insert himself into this mission and put himself in this kind of danger. Steve had spent over a year in misery, alone, and if he lost Bucky again…

He knew that this was a fairly simple mission, and Bucky would be somewhat safe, away from the action on the roof of an adjacent building, but Steve was hyperaware that anything could happen.

When Bucky finally exited his room to join him in the living room, Steve felt his breath catch in his throat.

Bucky wore heavy black boots and sturdy black leather pants that hugged his thighs. An empty holster was strapped to his right thigh. His shirt was similar to some of the others Natasha had had made, but it was made of thick, protective leather and fit tight to his chest and shoulders, thin black leather straps crisscrossed his waist holding closed the wing slits in the back, tightened with a silver clasp on one side.

They’d planned for this.

“Natasha?” Steve asked simply, glaring at Bucky, who simply nodded. Steve growled quietly and turned toward the door. “Let’s go.”

“I have to stop in the armory.” Bucky said softly.

“Fine.” Steve kept moving, didn’t look back. “Be quick.”

He met back up with Natasha and Clint in the garage. Both were armed and standing by a black SUV reading over the mission brief on their phones. Bucky joined them a moment later, his thigh holster no longer empty and a heavy black case in his hand.

While Clint drove, Natasha handed them their comm units and Steve went over the mission again, step by step. It was simple enough. Steve and Natasha would infiltrate the building, neutralize the threat, and secure the hostages. Clint and Bucky would be stationed on the roofs of two nearby buildings to monitor the situation and help Steve and Natasha neutralize the enemy at the right time. If it looked like things might escalate before they could get there, if it looked like there might be a threat to the hostages, Clint and Bucky would take them out as quickly as possible, but that was a last resort.

Even though he knew that Bucky would just be sitting on a rooftop, looking through a scope, he couldn’t stop his heart pounding and the worry that was building. He just wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible. Save the hostages, stop the bad guys, and go home.

*****

The corridors and stairwells were eerily silent as Steve made his way to the top floor. He and Natasha had waited until Clint and Bucky were in place and could give them a better idea of the situation before they entered the building. The numbers matched the mission brief. Five armed individuals visible, nine hostages.

“How’re you guys doing?” Clint asked.

“I’m getting closer,” Steve replied. “Another floor or two. Nat?”

“Same.”

They had each taken one of the two stairwells, just to ensure that no other hostiles waited.

“So this is what you guys do for fun, huh?” Bucky asked softly. “Though it seems like overkill to call in the supersoldier and the spies. Or is it because of the hostages?”

“Could be the hostages,” Clint answered, though he didn’t sound like he believed it.

“It’s whatever they’re after,” Natasha said, reinforcing Steve’s own theory. He didn’t trust SHIELD. There always seemed to be an ulterior motive. “It’s probably top secret or dangerous, or both. Something the public shouldn’t know about.”

“Guess that explains those mystery security protocols,” Bucky said. “Well, this is just great.”

Bucky and Clint continued with some small talk and banter that Steve mostly ignored as he made his way up flight after flight of stairs.

“Shhh.” Natasha’s voice was barely audible. “Almost there.”

Steve had also reached the right floor. The door had a small rectangular window. He didn’t see anyone in the hallway beyond, so he opened it soundlessly and stepped out into the empty corridor. He hadn’t expected anyone to be there anyway; the building had already been evacuated.

According to the mission brief, there was a windowed room with cubicles, and an interior lab with a special storage area where something of obvious importance was kept. The security protocols locked down everything from both sides and cut off access. Even if an intruder could get to whatever it was, they wouldn’t necessarily be able to get out. Only certain high-level individuals would be able to enter once the protocols were triggered. Or a supersoldier battering ram with a vibranium shield. It was messy and it was going to hurt like hell, but he’d do it.

The section of the building where the hostages were being held was down a hallway to his right. He started silently toward it, keeping an eye out for Natasha, who should meet him coming from the other side down the hallway. No one would be able to see them approach since the secure area was sealed with a windowless door. He turned a corner and found both Natasha and the door he needed. There wasn’t a lot of room to build up momentum, and he needed to get through the door in one try. Natasha would be hot on his heels, ready to take them down.

Steve grabbed his shield from his back and held it out in front of him, the signal for Natasha that he was in position. She nodded at him and whispered into his comm. “We’re in position. Go in three.” He took a deep breath and counted softly to three before charging at the door with everything he had.

All in all, it was over fairly quickly. Steve barreled into the room surprising them, and by the time the hostiles had turned their guns on the newcomers, Natasha had taken care of two of them, Clint and Bucky another two, and Steve tossed his shield at the only one remaining standing.

“Well, that was almost disappointingly easy,” Clint said over the comms.

Steve had expected them to be a little bit more organized, but he wasn’t going to complain. He and Natasha saw to the hostages quickly. Natasha talked quietly, trying to keep them calm and led them out into the hallway, away from the carnage in the lab. He knew she would also make the call to anyone down below giving them the all-clear to come up and take over. He moved to stand by the window as the last of the hostages exited the room, scanning the buildings across the way and quickly spotting Clint and Bucky, still in position waiting for the word from him to stand down. Steve was just about the give it when two voices suddenly shouted urgently over the comms.

“Steve!”

“Behind you!”

He turned just in time, as one of the men who had just been down lunged for him, a knife in his hand. Steve stepped back out of reach, before stepping forward and grabbing the man’s wrist and twisting it behind his back. He pushed the man off balance and swept his legs out from under him, forcing him facedown on the floor.

“I strongly advise you to just stay down,” Steve growled as he pressed the assailant’s face down against the carpet.

“It doesn’t matter what you do,” the man said, his voice slightly muffled against the floor.

“And why is that?”

“Cut off one head, two more shall take its place.” As he spoke, a frothy white foam started bubbling from his mouth and Steve could feel the man’s body convulsing slightly under his hand. He let go and stood, but the trembling had alright stopped, the man’s eyes open and staring.

“Steve?”

There were two voices, Bucky in his ear and Natasha behind him. She must have come in when she heard Clint’s and Bucky’s warnings. He couldn’t move, his body numb and staring at the man in front of him, but his breathing was coming faster than normal, his mind racing. It couldn’t be Hydra. It couldn’t. Hydra died with Schmidt. It had to be just someone fucking with him, but Steve didn’t know how well known the story of Hydra was, how many people really knew that phrase. What if he was wrong?

“Steve, are you okay?” Natasha said again, breaking through his panicked thoughts.

“I’m fine.” Steve stood finally and turned to look at her. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Okay.” She looked skeptical, but Natasha was always that perceptive. There was no way anything he said or did got past her. “Well, we have to get going, the clean-up team will be here—”

“Oh, shit!”

“What the—”

Bucky and Clint again spoke on top of the each, but the surprise and urgency was clear in both their voices. Followed immediately by the muffled sounds of hurried movement.

“Bucky? Clint? What’s happening?” Steve asked as he and Natasha rushed to the windows. Steve’s eyes immediately found Bucky, who was no longer alone on the roof of the adjacent building. He was grappling with someone, another figure dressed all in black. Glancing over, he could Clint in a similar position.

And here he stood with Natasha, staring out the window a building away. He could hear her speaking into her comm, this time talking to SHIELD but there was no way anyone could get there in time to help. 

Steve held his breath and turned to his gaze back to Bucky, watching the struggle helplessly. He felt Natasha become unnaturally still beside him and knew without looking that her eyes would be fixed on Clint. After a few moments, Bucky pushed the attacker back and landed a kick directly to their chest, sending them flying back into the rooftop door. Steve couldn’t see what happened as Bucky approached the downed attacker, but he was sure the other person wouldn’t be getting back up.

Steve relaxed slightly, but his relief was short lived.

A sharp intake of breath had him looking toward the other building and Clint, who no longer stood on the rooftop, but was hanging off the side of the building, both hands gripping the edge of the roof, his attacker standing above him. The rest happened _so_ fast, while he stood too far away, helpless to do anything but stand by and watch, the sounds through the comms an agonizing soundtrack. He watched Clint’s assailant raise his foot and stamp it down on Clint’s hand.

Heard him trying to hold in a shout of pain.

“No!” Natasha shouted.

“Clint!” Steve shouted as he him lose his grip and start to fall.

And Steve knew before he’d even trained his gaze, that Bucky was already sprinting across the rooftop toward Clint. Steve’s shout of “Bucky!” was far too late as his head turned just in time to see Bucky step up onto the wall and leap over the side of the building, body arching into a dive, wings pressed tightly to his body, heading straight for Clint’s falling form. He could hear Natasha gasp beside him, but everything suddenly became white noise, a rushing in his ears, as his vision tunneled to the figure diving from the building. All he could see was a hand reaching toward him, a rail breaking, that hand sliding away just out of reach, and the form of his best friend, the person he’d been in love with since he was sixteen, falling to snow and rocks below.

“Steve.”

There were two voices again, both speaking softly but forcefully, breaking through the haze.

“Steve, he’s okay,” Natasha said beside him, her voice soft and breathy with the remnants of her own panic.

“I’m alright, Stevie. I’m fine.”

He was on his knees, hand and forehead pressed against the cool glass of the window. His breathing was fast, harsh in his own ears.

“Steve.” Natasha was kneeling next to him, close but not touching. “He’s okay. Everything worked. He landed fine. He’s okay.” She repeated the phrase or something similar over and over again until Steve felt his breathing even out.

Natasha placed a tentative hand on his back. “You alright?”

“No.”

There was no longer any extra noise in his ear. Just Natasha next to him. She must have removed his comm. He could hear voices out in the hall from the former hostages. Hopefully some SHIELD agents or NYPD had come to take over. He needed to get out of here. Soon.

“You alright enough to get out of here?”

“Please.”

*****

As soon as Steve entered his apartment, he headed straight for the shower. The drive back to the tower had been quick. Natasha had led him from the lab, down the elevator to a parking garage. Their SUV was already there and waiting. He didn’t know how, but he didn’t really think to question it at the time. Natasha had her ways. Or he was just that out of it. Maybe she’d made a call and he’d missed it. It was hard to take anything in after… He hadn’t had any kind of flashback or panic attack in a while. This one left him feeling particularly numb.

When he came out of the bathroom, he wasn’t sure exactly how long he had been in the shower but knew it was probably far longer than necessary. 

Bucky wasn’t back yet.

Steve sat on the couch and stared at the blank television screen. It finally dawned on him that there may have been other things to take care off, was likely a debrief going on in the conference room downstairs or over in SHIELD’s New York office. And he wasn’t there, he’d just left with no word. He was one hell of a team leader.

He should probably feel guilty, but he was still having trouble feeling anything it all.

It was well into the evening by the time Steve thought about getting up from the couch. His stomach had been reminding him that he hadn’t eaten since breakfast. It was becoming a bit demanding, and he figured dinner might be a good idea, though he didn’t feel like making anything anyway. He stood and wandered to the kitchen, digging around for any leftovers that might still be edible. Leftovers never lasted long and the ones that did usually consisted of Bucky’s experiments. And weren’t worth eating.

He didn’t care tonight, pulled the first container out of the fridge and shoved it in the microwave on HIGH. If it was hot enough to burn his tongue, maybe he wouldn’t taste it.

Bucky walked in as he was dumping half of it down the garbage disposal. It was really that bad. He stood behind him in the kitchen. Steve hadn’t heard him enter, hadn’t turned from where he was exorcising the demons from that poor tupperware container. He still knew, could still sense Bucky at his back, was always hyperaware when Bucky was near him.

“How was the debrief?” Steve asked. He tried to put some feeling into his voice, to hide the numbness that still held onto him. It likely didn’t matter. Bucky would already know what happened, whether Natasha told him or he figured out just listening over the comm. “I’m sorry, I guess I kinda skipped out on it.”

“It wasn’t really a debrief.” Bucky’s voice was too quiet, too gentle. Steve wanted him to speak normally. “It was mostly just Nat and Clint explaining to Agent Hill why I exist. So you didn’t really miss much. I’m sorry I’m so late. I, uh… My little heroic act kinda caused a bit of a scene. We got a bit bombarded by people when I landed. I may have made the news.”

Steve nodded and looked down at the countertop in front of him where his hands were gripping the edges. He didn’t know what to say, how to react to any of this.

“Steve, I sorry. I—”

Steve turned abruptly, still not looking at Bucky. He couldn’t handle this right now, just needed to get away. “I’m going to bed,” he said as strode past Bucky and down the hall toward his room.

“Wait. Steve…”

“What?” he yelled, stopping in the hallway, but not turning around. The anger rose without warning, overcoming the numbness. He needed to get out of here, away from Bucky. He just needed to get to bed. He forced himself to breathe deeply a few times before he spoke again. “I’m not doing this right now, Bucky. Just let me get to bed. Good night.”

“It’s barely nine o’clock. I know you’re not that old, Steve. Stay. Talk to me. Yell at me, I don’t care.”

“I do. Good night, Buck.”

*****

Sleep didn’t come easily, and when it did his dreams were filled with nightmares and memories. Steve mostly laid in bed staring at the clock and waiting for an appropriate time to get up and go for a run. The numbness was gradually fading, and by the time he got back from his run around most of the island of Manhattan it was gone completely. The anger was still there, but it was manageable. He wasn’t likely to blow up at anyone undeserving, but he still wasn’t looking forward to seeing Bucky. They would have to talk at some point, he couldn’t contain the anger forever.

It would have to wait, though. Steve got back to their apartment much later than he normally did after running, and Bucky wasn’t there. A plate piled high with eggs, bacon, and toast was on the counter, covered and cooling. Steve felt a pang of guilt but was still all too glad to postpone the inevitable argument for a little longer.

After he showered and ate his cold breakfast, Steve figured he should call Maria to apologize for his absence the previous day and finally give his mission report, if needed. He forced himself to put in a video call instead of just using his cell phone. He should probably look her in the eye while he apologized for being a shitty team leader.

“Captain Rogers,” Maria greeted him as soon as the call went through. “Good morning.”

“Agent Hill,” Steve said with a nod. “I hope the debrief went well yesterday. I wanted to call and apologize for my absence, see if you needed anything from me.”

“Don’t worry about it, Captain. Agent Romanoff said you had suffered a minor injury and needed to have it seen to.” Her tone said she wasn’t buying that excuse but also wasn’t going to push it. “You can write a report and send it to me in the next few days. About yesterday’s mission and also about Sergeant Barnes. I’d like to know what you think about his proposal.”

“His proposal?” Steve asked, staring blankly at the screen for a second. No matter that he had known it was coming, it hurt that they hadn’t discussed it first. He could only blame himself though, There had been ample time, and he was the one who asked to put it off.

“His proposal,” she repeated, “to join SHIELD and the Avengers. Barton and Romanoff are on board with it. We’ll have to present the idea, and Sergeant Barnes himself, to Director Fury.” She paused and looked closely at Steve over the call. He didn’t want to think about what his face was betraying. “He didn’t mention it to you, did he?”

“Yes,” Steve replied. “Of course. We’ve talked about it. It’s really the obvious solution now that he’s here.”

Maria had started talking again, but Steve couldn’t process what she was saying, was relieved when she finally ended the call.

Steve stood frozen in the center of his living room, eyes turned to window and the city of New York under a clear blue sky.

SHIELD. It was really the only answer to Bucky’s existence that made sense. He wasn’t an angel anymore, but he was quite human either. He was essentially Steve with wings—super strength, accelerated healing, and flight—with Clint’s skills as a marksman, maybe even better than Clint. There weren’t a lot of options for him. He was enhanced, and what do you with enhanced humans?

So, Bucky would join the Avengers, just as he wanted.

Steve hated it, the whole idea of it. He’d known from the beginning this was the inevitable conclusion to Bucky being here, but he’d forced himself not to acknowledge it, to delay it as long as possibly.

Bucky had always watched his back. Before Steve had even known he existed, Bucky was there, by his side, but he had never been in danger. Steve had seen bullets pass through him, leaving him unharmed. But now… Bucky didn’t have that protection and Steve couldn’t do it again, couldn’t stand the thought of him out in the field, of days like the previous, watching and helpless. Or worse, Bucky out in the field without him, never coming home, once again left to die alone.

The apartment door opened and closed behind him, and Steve turned hesitantly expecting Bucky, but instead found Natasha walking toward him.

“Hey,” she said. “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” Steve said simply. He didn’t know what else to say to her, didn’t want to go into anything that happened yesterday, but looking at her now, he was just reminded that she _knew_. And she helped. She had Bucky’s tac gear made, she knew that he wanted to join the Avengers and encouraged it without telling him. And she helped him through his flashback, got him back to his apartment quickly and left him alone, made excuses for him.

“Damn it, Nat,” he said and sat down heavily onto the couch, head in his hands.

“Steve?” He felt her approach and take the seat next to him, her hand resting on his back, just like yesterday, strong and comforting.

He looked up at her concerned face and laughed softly and without humor. “Why do you have to be such a good friend?”

“I don’t know what to say to that.”

“I want to be mad at you so badly. I want to be mad at Bucky… No, wait. I’m still mad at him for jumping off the building like an idiot, but I know I can’t be mad at him about the outfit and about joining the Avengers. Can’t be mad at Clint either, I’m assuming he knew too?”

She looked a bit confused now. “Well, I mean Clint didn’t know everything. I think he just went along with it. But how did you know about Bucky joining the Avengers? I thought you were still avoiding the subject.”

“I called Maria this morning and she told me about his proposal. I guess you talked to Bucky this morning. Where is he?”

“They’re testing his wings.”

“What?” Steve asked, brow furrowed. “Why didn’t he wait for me? I thought he wanted me to be there? Then again, I guess we already know they work…”

“He didn’t think you would want to be there after yesterday, thought you might need a break from it for a while.”

Steve got quiet at that. He understood how they might all think that, but he always wanted to be there for Bucky, to support him when he needed it.

“You know, I don’t think you have room to talk when it comes to jumping off buildings,” Natasha teased.

“Hey, I’ve never…”

“Yeah you have,” Natasha pressed. “And you would’ve done the same thing if you had been on that building instead.”

“Well,” Steve said slowly, sounding contrite. “I don’t think…”

Natasha just looked at him until he huffed and looked away.

“Alright fine. I would have jumped.”

“Damn right, you would’ve.”

“But I’m still mad.”

“Mad about what exactly?” Natasha asked, raising a brow at him.

Steve opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again after a second.

He was mad that Bucky volunteered for the mission, that he wanted to join SHIELD and the Avengers, that he was prepared with appropriate gear, that he jumped off a building.

And Steve couldn’t blame him for any of that. He understood all of it, and he wasn’t mad.

He was scared, absolutely terrified. 

“See,” she said, her gaze penetrating. “You’re not mad. You know what you’re feeling. So, promise me you’re going to talk to him about, because he knows and he understand.” She stood from the couch. “And don’t just talk about yesterday, make sure you talk about what’s really eating away at you.”

Steve stilled, not looking at her. “What do you mean? Is there something else?”

Natasha had already turned and was walking toward the door. “Don’t play dumb with me, Rogers. I’m a spy,” she called over her shoulder. “Besides, you’re so obvious _Clint_ is starting to suspect. Just tell him already.” The last part was muffled as the door shut behind her.

So, he wasn’t hiding as well as he thought. Not that you could hide anything from Natasha. Even years of practice couldn’t help keep secrets from a spy. But if Clint knew, he was way off his game. 

Yet another thing he would have to deal with.

Steve wandered around the apartment the rest of the morning, into the afternoon. He was restless, anxious, feeling itchy in his own skin. He couldn’t sit still or focus on anything. He thought about going to the gym, but he’d already spent most of the morning running.

He needed to talk to Bucky, but he had no idea how long the testing would take and at this point he didn’t want to interrupt. He also didn’t want to risk having any part of this conversation in front of other people, especially Tony. So he was stuck here, waiting for them to finish and for Bucky to get back.

Steve finally got sick enough of waiting, just needing to talk some things out that he decided to go look for him. He stood from his spot on the couch, turned toward the door, and almost ran smack into Bucky, who must have entered without Steve realizing, too lost in his own head.

Bucky put a hand out to steady Steve, who had almost stumbled back onto the couch in his surprise.

“Woah, are you alright?”

“Sorry,” Steve said. “I didn’t hear you come in.” He steadied himself and took a step back, looking at Bucky, who had pulled his hand back.

His hair was down today, framing his concerned face. The coat he wore was new, or at least it was one Steve hadn’t seen before, not in this form. It was reminiscent of the blue wool coat Bucky had worn during the war, the one he’d been wearing when he fell from the train. It was thick and long-sleeved, with buttons along the front, though this one had straps along the sides to keep the back closed and where it was open for this his wings.

[](http://imgur.com/tti32yg)

There was too much in his head again, and the sight of Bucky in that coat wasn’t helping. He was standing this close to Bucky, who looked so much like a memory or a dream, with Natasha’s words fresh in his head, reminding him of what he lost and what he gained, of second chances.

“How was the testing?” Steve forced himself to ask when he realized he’d been standing there silently, simply staring at Bucky.

“Fine,” Bucky said. He seemed to be deliberating on what exactly to say. “Um, yeah, everything was fine. I’m sorry. That I didn’t wait for you. I wasn’t sure if you would want to be there, and then you were out for your run so… Anyway Tony calibrated a couple of things and said we’re good to go. Though he, uh… he recommend some small things first, not jumping off anymore buildings. Baby steps, you know?”

“Yeah, makes sense,” Steve said, with a short humorless laugh. “I talked to Agent Hill this morning. Called her to apologize, give her my report on the mission.”

“Ah,” Bucky said, looking down. He brought his arms closer, hugging himself and hiding his face behind his hair. Steve hated when he did that, though it was rare. Bucky should never have a reason to be unsure about talking to him, and Steve knew it was his own fault.

“I guess we should finally talk about that, huh?”

“Yeah,” Bucky said softly, dropping his arms and squaring his shoulders, looking determinedly at Steve. “We should probably do that.”

They stood for a moment in silence, both unsure how to begin.

“I know it makes sense,” Steve finally started, “for you to join the Avengers, to keep watching my back like you always used to, I just— Bucky, I’m terrified. I can’t lose you again.”

“I know, Stevie,” Bucky said. “But this is just something I have to do. I should be dead, but I’m not. I was brought back here, to you. This is why I’m here, to protect you. Just like I’ve always done.”

“But you don’t know that,” Steve urged, stepping forward and gripping Bucky’s bicep. “This is a gift, that you’re even here. What if— what if this is your reward. To have peace, and a second chance. To live a whole life without fighting. You gave up everything for me, Bucky, you almost gave up your life. Why would you want to risk doing that again?”

“Because you are the most important thing in my life,” Bucky said, softly, looking into Steve’s eyes. “And I need to be by your side, watching your back. I would never willingly leave you in this world alone, but I love you and I can’t watch you walk out that door without me again.”

“Bucky,” Steve whispered. The rest of whatever he wanted to say caught in his throat, overcome by the words he thought there was no chance he’d ever hear. Not from Bucky. He moved forward and pressed his lips gently to Bucky’s, closing his eyes and reveling in the feel of the soft lips against his. He squeezed Bucky’s bicep lightly where his still gripped it and brought his free hand up to his cup his face, deepening the kiss.

Steve felt Bucky’s hands on his hips, and they exchanged a few more light kisses before he pulled back, resting his forehead against Bucky’s, letting their breath mingle.

When Steve opened his eyes again, Bucky was smiling at him, blue-gray eyes alight with happiness.

“God, I love you,” Steve said.

“I know,” Bucky said quietly.

“You know?” Steve laughed.

“Okay, I didn’t know for sure. But I hoped.”

“I’ve loved you since I was sixteen. How could I not? You’re beautiful, an angel, and yet just enough of an asshole to keep up with me.”

Bucky laughed at that, his smile wide and happy.

“When did you…?”

“After Austria,” Bucky said softly. “Or maybe during. When I picked you up and flew you to safety. When I got back back and realized I couldn’t sit on the sidelines anymore and watch your stubborn ass go looking for trouble. I loved you enough to Fall for you, even if I didn’t think I could ever tell you how I felt.”

“No more falling,” Steve insisted. “For either of us.” Steve’s voice came out in a whisper, as he leaned back slightly to looked at Bucky’s wings, imposing behind him, one soft and white, the other cold and metallic black.

“You know, that’s not going to happen,” Bucky laughed. He pulled Steve closer to him, their chests brushing lightly.

“Promise to try at least?” Steve asked. His gaze moved from Bucky’s wings to his eyes, the blue seemed brighter, more intense. 

Bucky brought his lips close to Steve’s but not quite touching. “I promise,” he whispered, before leaning forward to place his lips gently against Steve’s, soft, just once before he pulled away.

Steve didn’t let him get far. He tilted his head slightly and brought their mouths together once more, lips parted slightly.

They exchanged slow and languid kisses, learning each other, reveling in the feel of one another. Bucky’s hands found their way to Steve waist and around his back, holding him tightly. Steve brought both hands up to cup Bucky’s face, then ran one through Bucky’s long hair.

When they finally parted, Steve rested his forehead against Bucky’s again, simply enjoying the feel of having Bucky this close in his arms and sent a silent thanks, a silent to prayer to whatever power had brought them here to future and allowed them to find each other again.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on Tumblr: [scootypuffjrsucks](www.scootypuffjrsucks.tumblr.com)


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